


Star Wars: The Scoria Plan

by hopelikethesun



Series: Star Wars: A New Order Universe [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - A New Order Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, F/M, Gen, Intrigue, M/M, Multi, Mystery, Original Character(s), Romance, Slow Burn, low stakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23266264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopelikethesun/pseuds/hopelikethesun
Summary: A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.... Star Wars —THE SCORIA PLANWith the First Order defeated and its lingering supporters pushed into the Unknown Regions, the Resistance thrives on Cloud City. General Poe Dameron struggles with the weight of duty, as Finn trains alongside Rey and Ben Solo on the remote island of Ahch-To. At long last, peace seems achievable —— but the threat has not passed.When the cunning Scoria Baize arrives on Cloud City, Rose Tico and Cyro are the only people capable of thwarting a plan to take down the Resistance from within.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Finn, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rose Tico x Cyro, Rose Tico x OC
Series: Star Wars: A New Order Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672996
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a little over a month since I finished posting updates for _A New Order_ and I've been hard at work creating this spin-of series! I absolutely fell in love with writing Rose during _A New Order_ and I can't wait to show you the story I've created. 
> 
> I have currently written five chapters of _The Scoria Plan_ , with a sixth chapter half-written. I anticipate this story will end up being around twelve or fifteen chapters. At this time we'll be on a one chapter per week schedule, so look for an update on the 29th/30th.

**37 ABY — Bespin**

“In the future, go easy on her.” Rose remarked as she slung her grease streaked rag over her shoulder, wiping her hands off on the front of her coveralls. 

“Got a little carried away with that thruster boost you installed.” Snap shrugged his shoulders, crossing his arms across his chest. “I promise not to be back in here again next week.”

“Sure it isn’t an excuse to see Rose?” Cyro teased as he dropped out of the bottom X-Wing, before he replaced the panel and used the automatic driver to fix the bolts back into place. 

“I’m a married man.” Snap said with an edge of offense and Rose started to laugh. “ _What_?”

“Cyro’s just trying to get a rise out of you.” Rose shot her partner a look, narrowing her eyes at him briefly before she looked back to Snap. “Give Karé my best.”

“She should be back planetside next week.” Snap explained as he approached his X-Wing, inspecting the work that had been done on it. “Poe has her helping Chewie on a coaxium pick up.”

“Oh, I know.” Rose offered, rubbing the heel of her palm against her hip to try to wipe off the grime. “I’m the one who requested the shipment in the first place. It’s a long shot, but I’m trying to work through a theory about splicing the hypermatter to increase the coaxium’s half-life. If that doesn’t work, then there’s some studies on clean energy that I’m interested in exploring.”

Snap looked between Cyro and Rose and then swept his hand over the top of his head mimicking his cluelessness. “In layman's terms?”

Rose’s brows furrowed together as she stared at the piot, “I’m trying to find a way increase coaxium’s energy boost.”

Snap looked towards Cyro then, “Do you understand half of what she’s saying?”

“I understand _all_ of what she’s saying,” Cyro countered, giving Snap a thoroughly unimpressed look. Rose knew that wasn’t entirely true — there were plenty of times when she found herself having to fully explain her plans to him, but she appreciated his loyal support. 

“ _Ah_ ,” Snap chuckled awkwardly. “Well, on that note, I think it’s time for me to get out your hair.” He patted the hull of his X-Wing. “Thanks for fixing her up. I’ll get the credits transferred over this evening.” 

“You’re single handedly depleting the fleet’s credit reserves.” Rose teased as she waved Snap off and headed back towards her workshop. “You know,” She started once she heard Cyro’s footsteps follow her into the room. “It’s my fault the thrusters failed on him.”

Cyro crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the threshold. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. We both know Snap goes hard on his ship.” 

Rose rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead and kept her focus on clearing up the tools that she’d left laying on her workbench. “That’s only because Poe encourages their little _racing_ expeditions, despite my repeated requests for them to not.” She huffed frustratedly. “I get that they all need an outlet, but they need to find a better one.”

“Speaking of Poe and outlets—“ Cyro started, walking further into the workshop then to help her put up her tools. “I never realized just how much he enjoys hearing himself talk.”

She snorted. “This sounds like a story.” And a welcome diversion from feeling down about the thruster failure. 

“We went out to the Floating Fish for drinks and sabacc and he spent most of the night bemoaning the fact that Finn’s gone.”

“Can you blame him?” Rose questioned with an arched brow. “They were married all of two weeks before Finn decided to hare off with Rey and Ben to train.”

Cyro shrugged. “I may have told Poe he wasn’t putting Finn’s best interests first.” 

“I’m surprised he didn’t punch you.” Rose countered with a short laugh. “Poe doesn’t handle change particularly well.”

“I just think they should be able to do their own thing. Marriage shouldn’t make them feel like they need to be joined at the hip. That sounds suffocating to me.”

Rose arched a brow as she turned to look at him. “You think marriage is suffocating?” She questioned, unable to mask the slight edge to her voice. 

“I really wouldn’t know,” Cyro shrugged a shoulder. “But I’m not keen on anything that feels restrictive. And I’m sure Finn feels the same way about _freedom_.”

“Oh.” She sighed softly and shook her head. “I hadn’t considered it that way.”

“It’s a rather nuanced concern. I think I managed to talk sense into Poe, however.”

“Good.” Rose kept her gaze lowered as she grabbed the rag off her shoulder and started to wipe down the workbench.

She hadn’t considered that the former Stormtroopers had an aversion to feeling tied down to one location. In those few months following the fall of Darth Sidious, Finn and Jannah had busied themselves with trying to liberate more Stormtroopers across the galaxy. It made sense. But Cyro hadn’t followed suit. He’d remained with her. 

Rose tilted her head enough to watch Cyro out of the corner of her eyes, watching as she sorted through a pile of bolts she’d pulled out for the repair. Her lips parted, ready to question why _he_ didn’t seem to feel the same way about being tied down, but she closed her mouth quick. Maybe she didn’t want to know. They had a good thing going and she wasn’t willing to let go of it. Yet.

Perhaps this was his way of preparing her for the truth — he didn’t want to stay on Bespin forever. She couldn’t blame him. While she loved the little life she’d forged on the planet, it didn’t feel like home. Though she didn’t know if she’d even find a place that felt like home. 

Cyro was the one to break the silence, hitting the container of bolts and causing them to scatter across the floor. “ _Kriff_.” He muttered as he knelt down to corral them. 

“Are you happy?” She blurted out before she could stop herself. 

“What?” He glanced up at her. 

Rose felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “ _Nothing_.” 

Cyro dropped the bolts back into the container and placed it on her workbench, before he turned around to look at her with an unconvinced expression. “What did you mean?”

“It’s just—” Rose rubbed at the back of her neck awkwardly. “You’re happy working at the repair yard, right?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest. “Outside of the occasional _nuisance_ I enjoy working with you. It’s been nice to keep busy with something I actually enjoy doing.”

Rose stared at him for a long moment, before she looked away to hide her expression. She wasn’t even sure what it looked like — confused perhaps, or maybe frustrated. “This shop wouldn’t be what it is without you.” She offered as she stepped past him, heading towards the low worktable that had the components of a hyperdrive laid out. 

“I disagree,” Cyro countered. “The repair yard has all of your heart in it. It would thrive with or without me.” 

Rose kept her gaze fixed on the hyperdrive. She could read between the lines. With or _without_ him. Honestly, she wasn’t even surprised. And she didn’t blame him for wanting to go elsewhere. He was free now — there was no First Order breathing down his neck and holding him back. They’d had a good run. 

“What’s your plan?” Cyro questioned as he leaned forward, pressing his palms against the tabletop. 

“The motivator.” She pointed at the machinery that she had separated into three pieces. “I’m trying to find a way to get the motivator sensors to recognize fumes, rather than just the hypermatter particles. It would generate longer if it ran off fumes. Not to mention, it would be more efficient and _clean_.” 

Cyro hummed thoughtfully, leaning across the table and picking up the motherboard. “Is it the collect sensor that’s causing the issue?” 

“That’s what I thought.” Rose worried on her bottom lip as she watched him examining the motherboard. “I’ve rewired it and adjusted the sensor levels. I even added an auxiliary charge plane to increase the conduction. The vapor trap seems functional,” She leaned forward and gestured to the piece of equipment she was referencing. “But given my previous failures, I’m not sure I want to waste the last vial of coaxium until they get back with more.”

“They’re not failures,” Cyro reassured her. “It’s only a failure when you give up.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Rose smiled at him. “Thanks.”

Cyro clicked his tongue against his teeth and grinned at her, “You know what you need?”

“What?” She arched a curious brow. 

“A night out on the town.” 

“I don’t really like sabacc.” She made a face. 

“Not one of the seedy places.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Have you been to the Cloud?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Have _you_?”

“Haven’t had a reason.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You wanna go?”

She gestured to her grimy coveralls. “I don’t think they’d let me in.” Rose scrunched up her nose as she looked across the table at him. The Cloud Dance was one of the _nicest_ restaurants in Cloud City. She knew Poe went there a few times to shmooze leaders into alliances — per Lando’s advice. 

“Not tonight.” He shook his head and snapped his fingers. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Rose laughed breathlessly. “My only plans are here.” The flutter of excitement in her chest put to bed the fears that he was leaving. Though she was quick to remind herself that he could be planning one last _hurrah_ to soften the blow of his plans to leave. 

“When’s your last scheduled repair?”

She thought for a second, “About three in the afternoon.” 

“Wanna meet at the Cloud around five then?” His enthusiasm was infectious. 

“That works.” Did she even have anything that would look suitable? She had two whole dresses in her entire wardrobe and one was the gown she’d gotten for Finn and Poe’s wedding. Now she had something _new_ to stress about. “Anyways—” She gestured to the hyperdrive. 

“Right! _Work_.” He clapped his hands together somewhat nervously. “I’m going to go check on the fuel lines.” His gaze lingered on her for several seconds, before he excused himself from the workshop.

Rose’s brows drew together as she watched him go, her mind buzzing with questions that she wasn’t going to readily find the answers to. Mostly she wanted to know if Cyro had just asked her out. On a date. She’d never actually been asked on a date before. She’d _seen_ people get asked out on date in holodramas, but it had never happened to her. Paige? _Yeah_. Paige had gone on plenty of dates. Even after they joined the Resistance, she’d always been the sister that had everyone’s attention. Rose had lived vicariously through her. 

Since their time on the _Retribution_ , she hadn’t gone a day without seeing Cyro. Gar and Neda and all the other Stormtroopers they befriended had scattered across the galaxy or joined the ranks of the Resistance to lend their aid in the reconstruction. But Cyro had remained. He fit into her friend group, as if he’d always been there. 

She liked him too. _Really_ liked him. But after misreading Finn’s feelings towards her at Crait, she’d distanced herself from the idea of romance. In fact, she’d assumed it just wasn’t in the cards for her. Finn and Poe could have romance. Rey and Ben could have romance. She… had her work. Work that Cyro had integrated himself into. After Lando had suggested she start her own repair yard — Cyro was right there helping her establish Haysian Ship Yard as the best shipyard in Bespin.

And now she’d sabotaged herself into believing that he was going to leave her behind. 

* * *

**Naboo**

It wasn’t the longest she’d gone without visiting Naboo. But it was the longest she had gone without having a good excuse as to why she hadn’t returned. In the past six months she’d just felt _hopeless_ — like she was falling and there was nothing to catch to save herself. Her entire purpose had been destroyed. She had given nearly a decade of her life to the cause and then in the blink of an eye, it had all ended. She was lost. That emotion wasn’t an easy one to put into words. 

_Sorry_ _I haven’t visited YaYa_ _I was feeling sorry for myself_. It was a weak excuse and she was ashamed to even humor it as her reason. 

At least before she’d had the academy or her orders as an excuse before. 

Even though it was irrational, she still felt as though she could’ve done more. At least if she’d died, she would’ve gone out in a blaze of glory. But she’d survived and now she had no purpose. 

At least she still had Gus. 

Scoria knelt down and dangled a half-alive loth-rat in front of the cat. She’d never related to any living creature more than she did to the half-dead rat that hardly put up a fight when Gus jumped up to feast on it. “That’s a good boy,” She drawled out, scratching behind the rambunctious cat’s ear. “Are you excited to see YaYa again? I bet she’ll have plenty of treats for you.” 

She scooped up her pet and ventured out of _The Inheritance_. 

Naboo was still as lovely as it had always been. Of all the planets she’d been stationed on — none ever compared to the beauty of Naboo. There was no planet in the galaxy with skies as blue as Naboo or water as crystalline and pure. 

Gus wiggled out of her arms, bounding through the tall grass towards Yané’s villa. It had been nearly a year since her feet had last touched the ground there. The closer she got to the villa, the more apparent her homesickness became to her. Everywhere she looked, she recalled fragments of her childhood. 

How many memories were made by the Hsuberry tree? Archery class, learning to mend garments, helping Yané make jams. 

A simple childhood.

“Is that my Scoria?” Yané questioned as the door to her villa swept open and she emerged with the aid of a cane. Scoria’s heart clenched in her chest as she took in the sight of her grandmother. She hunched over her cane and each step seemed uncertain as she took a practiced route along the stone path that extended from her doorway. “ _Scoria_?”

“I’m here YaYa.” Scoria offered, her brows furrowed together as she moved swiftly down the pathway towards her. “YaYa—” 

Yané looked towards her with cloudy eyes that revealed the burdens of old age. Gone were her warm brown eyes, instead the greying of blindness had ravaged her gaze. “I can feel your pity, child. I want none of that. Instead, I want a hug.” She righted herself as best as she could, lifting her cane up off the ground to extend her arms.

Scoria moved towards her and carefully embraced her as though Yané were made of glass. She was thinner than she remembered — _frail_. If she was gone six months longer, she worried whether there’d be a woman to hug at all. 

“I have missed you, little kitten.” Yané smoothed her hand over Scoria’s hair, chuckling as she did. “You’ve let it grow out.”

“I have.” She said quietly as she pulled back to look at Yané, though she stared back without sight. “I don’t have to keep it regulation anymore.” Scoria sighed. “When did this happen?”

“Old age, dear.” Yané waves her hand dismissively. “I have learned to adapt well enough.”

“You should have contacted me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Yané shook her head. “I knew you were busy with your work. I can manage just fine.” 

Gus rubbed up against her legs, meowing in an attempt to get attention. 

“There’s my favorite little monster.” Yané started to lean down to pet the Loth-cat, but she caught herself before she did, rubbing her back.

Scoria leaned down and picked Gus up, carefully passing him to her grandmother. “He missed you.”

“He missed that krill soufflé I always made for him.” Yané grinned in Scoria’s direction as the cat nuzzled at the throat, purring contentedly. “Are you hungry, dear?”

“You know I could always eat your cooking, YaYa.” Scoria answered with a soft laugh, “Better than anything I can get elsewhere.”

“That’s not saying much, now is it?” Yané countered teasingly, keeping Gus in her arms as she grasped her cane tightly in her hand and headed back into the villa. “I don’t know how anyone manages to eat those horrible ready-to-eat meals you brought home with you.” 

Scoria shouldered her duffle bag as she followed her grandmother inside the villa. Not much had changed since the last time she’d been home. Everything was still precisely as she remembered it — the portraits still hung along the walls, depicting a time that felt like someone else’s life. 

She hardly recognized herself in the portrait that she’d sat for on her tenth birthday. The artist had captured her childhood innocence perfectly — a brightness that no longer shone quite so brightly in her eyes. Her hair had been too long, hanging down past her hips. Yané had woven Rominaria flowers into her hair and she still recalled the powdered fresh scent of them. Life had been so simple then. Back before she’d learned the truth of her origins. 

“Scoria dear,” Yané called out from the kitchen. “Are you planning to stay for supper tonight?”

“I am, YaYa.” She didn’t have anywhere else to go, after all. She could spend the night in _The Inheritance_ , but she feared that would only remind her that she had nowhere to go. 

“Then I’ll make your favorite for dessert.” 

“Shuura pie?” Scoria questioned as she made her way down the hallway towards the kitchen. Yané had already given Gus a saucer of milk and a plate of krill just like old times. Despite her limited eyesight, she was moving about the space with practiced ease. Her hands found familiar utensils, gathered up the necessary ingredients. If Scoria looked past Yané’s wrinkled complexion and frail figure — it almost seemed that she was looking back on an old memory. Something like the dreams she used to have when things grew difficult. 

Yané brandished a shuura fruit. “I only have enough for the pie. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve purchased more.” She sat the fruit down and began slicing it. “How long do you and Gus plan on staying?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, sinking down on the stool at the counter’s edge. 

“When does your leave end?” 

Scoria laughed bitterly. “My leave is rather indefinite.” She remarked, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “Things have unraveled for us and I don’t know where that leaves me.”

“You always manage to land on your feet, Ria.” Yané reassured her softly. “You’ll find something new.” 

“ _No_ .” Scoria slapped her hand against the countertop. “Sorry. It’s just… I was in for nearly a decade. All that training, all that progress… I lost something that truly mattered to me YaYa. I don’t want something _new_ — I want to make the people who took it away from me pay for what they’ve done.”

Yané’s gaze fixed on her as she sat her knife down atop the counter. “Vengeance has never benefited _anyone_.” She shook her head solemnly. “But you should grieve what you’ve lost however you need to.” 

“And what if I need vengeance to grieve?” 

“Do you?”

Scoria frowned as she stared at her grandmother. The answer was _yes_. She needed someone to pay for taking away the life she’d built for herself. She needed the Resistance to pay handsomely for what they’d done to her. But she couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing the woman who stood before her. 

Yané didn’t know what she did. She knew, perhaps, that her line of work was involved in the turmoil felt across the galaxy. But she’d never given her specifics, mostly because she had hated the thought of losing her grandmother.

The portrait that hung above the fireplace in the dining room was testament enough to the fact that Yané’s personal politics were at odds with the ones that Scoria ascribed to. She’d grown up listening to stories about the former Queen of Naboo — Padmé Amidala, a woman that would go on to become a Senator who had stood against the Separatist Movement. Yané would never approve of her granddaughter’s First Order involvement. 

“No. Of course not.” She lied breezily, leaning down to pat Gus’ head. “The krill was a nice touch. He’ll never want to leave now.” 

“Then perhaps the shuura pie will have the same effect on you.” Yané said with an affectionate smile.

“ _Perhaps_.” Scoria mused. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the 3-day delay. I forgot to update on Sunday.

“Are you _sure_ this works?” Rose questioned as she spun around for the third time in front of the hologram of Rey she had set up on her desk. She knew what sort of people went to Cloud Dance — and she wasn’t one of them. She’d chosen something on the casual side of elegance. 

“I’m not exactly the best judge of _fashion_ ,” Rey remarked with a soft laugh. “But I think you look gorgeous. I’m almost jealous.” She teased as she gestured to her messily tied up hair and loose-fitting tunic. 

“I’m guessing there isn’t much in the way of high end dining on Ahch-To?”

Rey scrunched up her nose. “Unless you consider going to the high end of the island to have supper, no. Not really.” 

“And everything’s going well?” She questioned as she smoothed her hands over the fabric of the jumpsuit. The shape of the outfit reminded her of her coveralls, which was part of the reason she’d chosen it in the first place. 

“It’s gotten easier.” Rey offered. “Ben was _really_ intense the first couple of months. I think he might have scared a few of our students, which wasn’t ideal. But he’s eased up recently. We have a good rhythm now.” 

“I wish you came to the city as much as Finn did.” Rose smiled at Rey’s hologram. 

Rey nodded her head, “Me too. I think I’ve almost gotten him convinced that it’s time for a weekend away from Ahch-To.” She glanced over her shoulder, “Yes, we’re talking about you.” 

A second later, Ben entered into the path of the projector, standing just behind Rey. “Are you going somewhere?”

“She’s got a date.” Rey answered with a grin. 

“I don’t actually know if it’s a date.” Rose explained nervously, her hands clasped together tightly. Calling it a date made her stomach twist into uncomfortable knots. 

“Is it with Cyro?” Ben questioned.

“Yes.” 

Ben arched a brow. “Then it’s a date.” 

“How would you know?” Rose narrowed her eyes at the hologram. 

“I have eyes.” He countered dryly. “And it was plain enough to see from the way he looked at _you_.” 

Rose pressed her palms against her cheeks, feeling the heat warming them. “Stop. _Stop_.” She slid her hands to cover her face then. “As fun as this is — if I don’t leave, I’m going to be late.” 

“Have fun.” Rey offered in a sing-song voice, before descending into a short fit of laughter. 

“Don’t stay out too late.” Ben advised, a faint grin spreading over his lips. 

“Bye!” Rose said quickly as she shut off the hologram. She took a step back and looked at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t even at the restaurant yet and she already felt out of place. 

It didn’t help that she’d tortured herself all night worrying that Cyro was planning to leave the city. Maybe for good. She didn’t want to get her heart set on something — only to break it again. 

The 13th level was filled with ritzy businesses — grandly gilded casinos, restaurants that surpassed even the finery of the Cloud Dance, and some of the swankiest art galleries. She rarely ventured into the levels between 13 and 100. She was content up on the concourse where she lived or down in the Industrial Levels. The overindulgence of the wealthy on Cloud City often left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

She rounded the corner and smiled when she spotted Cyro standing outside the restaurant. He’d clearly had a similar issue with finding something to wear that wasn’t entirely outside of his typical wardrobe. She recognized his slacks as a pair he’d worn for their _nicer_ meetings with Lando — but she hadn’t seen the vest before. The dark blue velvet looked nice against his complexion and the high collar that sat just below his ears drew her attention to the soft curl of his dark hair. 

“Hey!” Rose called out as she picked up the pace of her stride. 

“ _Wow,_ ” Cyro said, gesturing to her outfit. “You look lovely.” 

“Thank you! It has pockets.” She quipped, shoving her hands into her pockets awkwardly as she felt a fierce blush starting to burn at her cheeks. Rose felt like an idiot — she’d just seen him a few hours ago at work and yet here she was acting _nervous_ in front of him. “So,” She cleared her throat and gestured to the building. “This is the Cloud Dance.” 

Cyro nodded his head with a short laugh. “It is.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, glancing through the window of the restaurant. “I knew it was nice but _damn_.” He looked towards her then. “Think they’ll be able to see through the facade and figure out that we’re just mechanics?”

Rose made a face. “That’s been my fear _all_ day.” She cupped a hand over her mouth and laughed. “But I think we cleaned up pretty nicely.” 

“I don’t know about _me_ , but you certainly did.” Cyro said smoothly with an arched brow and a faint smirk playing over his lips. “If worse comes to worst, at least we’ll have a hell of a story to tell everyone about getting kicked out of Cloud Dance.”

“I like the way you think.” Rose breathed out a sigh of relief, trying to let go of the nervousness that was making her tense. “You know, I can count on _one_ hand the number of times I’ve even been down on these levels.” 

Cyro snorted. “I think I’ve been past ten maybe three times.” He gestured around vaguely. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much wealth in one place before.” 

“I have.” Rose said with a shrug. “You’d be surprised what war profiteering can get people.” She folded her arms across herself and looked towards the restaurant. “You ready to try this?”

“After you,” Cyro said with a mock bow, stepping forward to open the door for her. He followed closely behind her, a hand hesitantly resting at the small of her back. “Is that—” He started, but Rose cut him off.

“It’s nice.” She said quietly, tilting her head to the side to look at him with a smile. His hand rested there with a little more assurance as they approached the maître d'. 

The Lutrillian maître d' welcomed them with a practiced bravada, whisking them towards the back of the restaurant — past the tables of other customers who were dressed in clothes far more elegant than anything Rose could’ve even imagined. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Cryo started once the Lutrillian had left them to look over their menus. “But I feel as though he paraded us to the back of the restaurant to _shame_ us for not fitting in here.” 

Rose gave him a pinched look. “That thought had crossed my mind.” She glanced back towards where they’d come from. The other diners had _definitely_ given them disapproving looks — and they’d been put in the very back of the restaurant, out of the line of anyone’s direct view. “I think they _might_ think we don’t belong here.” They should’ve expected it. They weren’t the sort that fraternize with the wealthy.

“And it’s not just us projecting?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Rose turned her attention to the menu, her lips parting as she swore under her breath. 

“What?” 

“Look at how many credits the wine is.” She picked up her menu and pointed at the cost of Corellian wine. 

His jaw drop and a bark of laughter escaped him before he could catch himself. 

“Is there a problem?” The waiter was quick to arrive, brows furrowed and disapprovingly glaring at Cyro. 

“No. _No_.” Cyro stifled his laughter and cleared his throat. “Is this the price for a bottle?” He questioned. 

“A glass, sir.” He answered with a maintained frown. “We pride ourselves on offering the _finest_ selection of wines from throughout the galaxy.”

“But it’s from Corellia.” Rose interjected. “Maybe I could understand this price if it were from somewhere a little more _exotic_ , but… Corellia?” She shook her head. “You’re price gouging.”

“I can assure you that our _regular_ clientele have no issue with our prices.” The waiter answered, shooting Rose a disapproving glare. 

Rose was undeterred. “Just because they’re stupid enough to pay these prices, doesn’t mean it’s _fair_.” She insisted and almost laughed at the look of pure venom that flashed in the man’s eyes at her remark. “I don’t scare that easily.” 

“Perhaps you’d be better suited below 161.” He hissed out. “Your worker’s hands are painfully obvious.” 

Before Rose even had a chance to counter the remark, Cyro had jumped to his feet with barely contained rage. “You’ll apologize right now.” He threatened lowly. 

“I only stated the facts.” The waiter said hesitantly, glancing Rose. “Am I wrong?” 

“It’s not a matter of wrong or _right_ , it’s a matter of manners.” Cyro pointed at him. “Apologize.” 

“Let’s just go.” Rose suggested as she stood up. 

“He should apologize first.” 

“I don’t need apologies from someone who has sold out to greed.” Rose insisted. “They can have their overpriced wines and false importance, I’m proud of having hands that _work_. At least I’m making an honest living for myself.” 

The smile that Cyro met her with made her heart flutter with a rush of affection. She’d seen a similar look not that long ago — when they’d known each other only a few minutes on the _Retribution_. Was that the look that Ben had mentioned? Oh, stars.

“You’re right. Let’s get out of here.” 

Cyro’s hand returned to the small of her back, keeping close to her as they made their way out of the restaurant. Patrons were staring at them with renewed interest and she caught the way they whispered conspiratorially to one another. She hoped they’d heard their conversation. Not that any of them would care. 

“Vapor Room?” Rose suggested once they were yet against loitering outside the restaurant, on a street filled with finely dressed residents, milling about oblivious to the troubles of anyone else around them. It must’ve been a nice existence. She was too painfully aware of the trouble in the galaxy. 

“I would never pass up an opportunity to have their fizz.” Cyro raked his fingers through his hair before he rolled up his sleeves. “Not to mention, I was hoping our evening wouldn’t end this soon.” 

“Ben did warn me not to stay out too late.”

“Solo?”

Rose laughed and nodded. “I asked Rey for advice about this.” She gestured to her clothes. “And Ben decided to give me some advice.” They walked side-by-side as they meandered their way towards the transport dock to take the shuttle over to the repulsorlift where the Vapor Room was located. 

“So they know you were going out with me?” He questioned as he casually tucked his hands into his vest pockets. 

“They know I spend most of my time with you.” Rose countered, tilting her head to look at him. “Is that okay?” She second-guessed herself. 

“Of course it is.” He arched a brow at her. “Did you think it wasn’t?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted with a shrug.

The shuttle they boarded was overcrowded. They ended up wedged onto a bench with one too many people and while she _enjoyed_ being pressed close to him, the nearness only made her more anxious. The way he’d kept his hand at the small of her back in the restaurant had given her the reassurance she needed to convince herself she _had_ been reading him right. He was definitely interested in her. 

Cyro gently tapped the toe of his boot against her ankle. “You’re quiet. Did that guy get under your skin?”

She shook her head. “No. That sort of grandeur has never set well with me.” She looked down at her hands, which were _clearly_ those of a worker. She had permanent stains she’d never been able to scrub off and no amount of washing had made her nails look clean. “I grew up poor and I just… I think about how these people have no idea what it’s like. To work for every single morsel their families eat.”

He reached out and took her hand into his. “These are the hands of someone trying to make a difference in the world.” 

Rose blushed, “I’m just trying to do the right thing.” 

Cyro gave her hand a squeeze, “And you are. The Resistance should give you a lot of credit for what you’ve done for them.” 

She looked down at their hands, her thumb slowly brushing over the back of his hand. It felt _right_ — which was nice. “You know, we should’ve known better than trying to go to a place like that.”

He chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. “Perhaps. But it was fun, wasn’t it?” Cyro kept her hand in his as he guided them off the shuttle, weaving their way through the bustling construction platform towards the seedy cantina they’d been to a number of times. It wasn’t the _criminal_ type of seedy cantina — there were rarely, if ever, actual crimes committed. But the frequent flyers kept to themselves and never put up a fuss about drinking in a junkyard of a cantina. 

“Find us a table and I’ll get our drinks,” Rose offered, reluctantly releasing her hold on his hand. Even dressed up like they were, she didn’t feel like they stood out in the Vapor Room, not like they had at the Cloud. People just didn’t _care_ in the cantina. They just wanted to drink. 

“Two fizzes.” Rose ordered, dropping a few credits on the bar top as she leaned against it. 

“Good to see you again Ro’.” The bartender remarked with a grin as she picked up the credits. “You two are here often enough, I know what your _regular_ is.” 

“Thanks Nima.” 

“So when did _that_ start?” The Twi’lek questioned as she shook up a beverage for another patron. 

“When did what—” Rose followed her line of sight back towards Cyro, who had found them a small circular table towards the back of the bar, near where the band was starting to warm up for the evening. “Tonight, technically. I guess. I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know_?” She clicked her tongue against her teeth. 

“It’s complicated.”

“Is he married?”

Rose looked mortified. “ _No_! Nothing like that. I’m just worried he might not want to stay here on Bespin forever.” 

Nima arched a brow, “And you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sounds like you don’t _know_ a lot.” Nima shook her head, walking down the length of the bar to pass a drink to a customer. “But isn’t that putting the fathier before the cart? If tonight is just the _beginning_?”

“I don’t—” Rose stopped herself before she admitted her ignorance again. “I’ve never been on a real date before.” She confessed. 

“You two are always together,” Nima pointed as she began working on their fizzes. She’d never been much for sweet drinks, but Cyro’s sweet tooth had been infectious. Rum, fruit puree, and a delicious helping of sugar-sweet fruit juice chilled. It was the perfect drink to relax with after a long day in the shipyard. “And from what I’ve seen, you two work good together.” 

“We do.” Rose propped her chin up with her palm, resting her elbow on the bar. “I guess I don’t want to ruin the friend thing we’ve got going if this doesn’t pan out.” 

“We’d lose out on a lot of things in life, if we worried about ruining things before they even started.” Nima pointed out, sitting one and then two drinks down in front of her. “Just have fun.”

“Thanks.” Rose dug in her pocket and threw another credit her way. She headed towards Cyro, settling into the booth beside him. He looked far more at ease sitting in the cantina, than he had trying to look stiff and proper at the Cloud Dance. 

“How’s Nima?” He questioned as he took a sip of his drink. 

Rose caught the straw between her lips and took a long drink from the fizz, sinking back against the seat. “ _Well_ ,” She started, keeping her eyes on Cyro’s face. “She really wanted to know what was going on here.” 

Cyro pursed his lips thoughtfully, “What do _you_ want to be going on here?”

“No fair.” Rose laughed, rolling her eyes. “I asked first.” 

“ _Hmmm_.” He hummed as he dragged his fingers through his hair and leaned back against the seat. “You know I like you Rose.” 

The simplest phrase and she felt like her stomach dropped. Her pulse was pounding loudly in her ears with a rush of blood. She stared at him, expecting the worst and she was fairly certain it had to be written on her face because Cyro’s playfulness suddenly turned into a pained and worried look. 

“ _Kriff_.” Cyro swore under his breath. “Did I misread this?”

“No!” Rose reached out and caught his arm. “I like you too.” 

“Then why do you look like you’re going to throw up?”

Why hadn’t the ground just opened up and swallowed her whole yet?

“I’m not going to throw up.” She assured him, “You remember when I told you how I had sort of liked Finn briefly?” He nodded. “He played a similar line when he let me down gently. ‘ _You know I really like you Rose_ ’ but then there was a _‘but’_.” 

She folded her arms across her chest as she stared at him. Rose Tico could face impending doom head-on, but this seemed like too daunting of a mission for her. 

“There’s no _but,_ ” Cyro said gently, his warm gaze never leaving her face. “We weren’t ever allowed to have relationships as Stormtroopers. Emotions like that aren’t something a Stormtrooper can risk having.” He pulled his arm out of her grasp so he could take ahold of her hand, “Friendship I’m good at, but this… it’s very new to me.” 

“It’s new for me too.” 

“Poe was the one who suggested I should take you somewhere nice. You know, for a date.” Cyro’s cheeks flushed pink. “I should’ve known this was a better option for us.”

“You don’t have to take me somewhere nice for a date.” Rose grinned at him. “I would’ve been perfectly happy just spending an evening covered in engine fluid with you.” Her eyes widened a little. “Wait, you asked Poe for advice?”

“He makes being charming look effortless.” 

Rose couldn’t help the fit of laughter that overcame her, she released his hand to cover her mouth. “That’s hilarious!”

“I can _tell_?” He arched a brow.

“He could hardly get the courage up to tell Finn that he liked him.” Rose inwardly grimaced at the fact that it had been a similar situation. Fear of ruining a good thing with a good friend. At least now she could sympathize, because that _was_ a legitimately awful fear to have. 

“And he acted like he was a pro.” Cyro rolled his eyes and laughed. “Figures.” 

“That’s Poe for you.” She reached for her drink and took a sip, relaxing back against the seat. “So this was definitely a date, huh?”

“An attempt at one.” 

“I liked it.” Rose said with a shrug. “We got dressed up, kicked out of a restaurant, and now we’re in our favorite place. Sounds like a good night to me.” It felt like a weight was lifted off her chest. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, the part where you snapped at the waiter was definitely my favorite part of the night.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, reaching for his own drink then. 

Rose hid her grin behind the rim of her glass. “I could tell.” She quipped, taking another sip before setting her glass back down. 

“I enjoy your _passion,_ ” Cyro said with a shrug. “It’s part of the reason we’re here.”

She sat her glass down on the table and shifted a little closer to him, “What do you mean?”

“Well,” He began rubbing his lips together thoughtfully, before taking another sip. “When you were being held captive on the _Retribution_ , that passion was what caught my attention. You were in a vulnerable position and yet you cared about the futures of the Stormtroopers. Even those that meant to harm you.” 

“Some might call that _foolish_ ,” Rose pointed out. “But I know it’s the right thing to do. War isn’t about making the easy choices that benefit only yourself. War is about making the hard choices that might cost you your own life all so that others can live.” She sank back against the seat, arms curled around her middle. “I’d do it all again, even if the outcome didn’t lead to you saving me.” 

“You have a good heart, Rose.” He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “You haven’t let the war tarnish it.” 

“If we let it tarnish us, then we’ve let it win.” 

* * *

Scoria ran her thumb around the rim of her liquor glass, staring down into the murky blue substance — hoping that it would _somehow_ give her the answers that she looked for. 

Her heart hurt, but in a distant numb sort of way. Naboo hadn’t been what she had needed, but she realized it too late. It was a small patch on a festering wound. She’d finished supper with her grandmother, eaten far _too_ much of her infamous shuura pie, and discovered that the sinking sensation had returned tenfold. 

No matter where she ran, she was still drowning. 

And lying to Yané only made it worse. 

For hours she had sat there in the comfort of her childhood home and spun a story which carefully avoided the truth. It made her feel dirty — dirtier than anything she’d done for the First Order. Lying to the one woman who had given her _everything_. 

She hadn’t been able to bear telling her yet another series of lies — so she’d fled with Gus in the early hours of the morning before Yané had awoken. 

Scoria had picked the first set of coordinates that popped into her head and headed towards the Outer Rim to dock in Bespin for the night. It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself wandering vaguely familiar streets in the middle of the night. She’d done it a lot lately. There was an eerie comfort in the unfamiliarity. 

The Floating Fish had a reputation. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be no different than any other casino in a bustling outpost. But Scoria had been there enough times over the past eight years to know that the underbelly was alive and well all around her. It was the perfect place to take her mind off her current situation. 

Not to mention, Bespin had recently become the Resistance’s home base. All around her the Resistance was thriving and it made her stomach turn. 

“With a face like that, one might think you were sipping on ethyl.”

Scoria glanced up at the Quarren that had settled at the bar to the left of her. She gave a humorless laugh and swirled her drink with a short twist of her wrist. 

“Bad day?”

“Bad year.” She snapped, nodding her head towards his drink of choice. “Didn’t know Quarren drank that shit.”

He offered a mock toast to that. “The weaker the grog, the longer you can prolong the buzz with no adverse effects come morning.”

“I’d rather deal with the morning after, than swallow that pisswater.” She knocked back her drink, gesturing to the bartender for another round. 

“I take it that you aren’t from around these parts.” The Quarren remarked, scooting one seat closer to her. 

“What gives you that impression?” She countered with an arched brow. 

“Your First Order regulation blaster is quite the tell.” 

Scoria stiffened. “I stole it.”

“And I’m the Supreme Leader.” The Quarren mocked. “So you survived.”

“It’s a sore subject.” She ground out as she welcomed her new glass of alcohol, half tempted to down it in one swig too. 

“I can only imagine.” He sipped at his grog contemplatively, before he offered. “The Resistance is _surprisingly_ welcoming from what I’ve heard. Rumor has it they even let Kylo Ren himself join their ranks. As thanks for being a turncoat.”

Scoria narrowed her eyes. “Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“I’m surprised there aren’t more bitter First Order officers just clamoring for a chance to tear them down from the inside.”

 _Oh_. She hadn’t actually considered that. At least not whole sober. Not that she was sober currently. “You think it would be that easy?”

The Quarren shrugged. “Time could only tell.” He downed the grog, before offering her his hand. “ _Vihaan_.”

Scoria knocked back her drink and shook his hand. “Scoria.” She leaned against the bar. “What do you know about the Resistance?”

“Baron Calrissian has given them free reign over Cloud City. They’ve got a cocksure pilot playing General—“ Vihaan snorted. “He tries, so I’m told.” He gestured towards the sabacc table. “Finds himself down here from time-to-time to blow off steam.” 

Scoria’s gaze flickered towards the sabacc tables, before she fixed Vihaan with a look. “What’s it to me?”

Vihaan gestured to the bartender to refill her drink, passing a couple credits across the bar to cover it. “You struck me as the type that might be interested in reeking a little havoc.”

“I don’t know what gave you _that_ impression.” She leaned heavily against the bar, shifting so she was angled away from the Quarren. “Thanks for the drink.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “You spend enough time in a place like this and you learn to read people.” Undeterred by the way she had closed herself off, Vihaan leaned towards her. “You’re angry. Rigid back, clenched jaw.”

“Maybe I just want to be left alone.” She grumbled, taking a swig of her drink, hissing as she sat the glass back down at the bar. “What else did you think you know?”

Vihaan stroked the tentacles that hung around his jaw. “You didn’t end up on Bespin by coincidence—”

“ _Actually_ ,” She held up her hand to stop him from continuing further. “Coincidence is precisely why I’m here. I picked the first planet I thought of and ended up here.”

“Why were you thinking about Bespin?”

Scoria started to answer, but she pressed her lips together firmly. Why _had_ she chosen Bespin? “Go on.” She said quietly. 

“There are no true coincidences in this world, Scoria. The Force moves in mysterious ways.” He clinked the bottom of his glass against the bar rhythmically. “The Resistance has a repair yard on level 232. The owner’s from Hays Minor, from what I’ve heard.”

“I’m sure Bespin is quite the upgrade then.” She finished the rest of her drink, wiping her fingers over her lips. “Not much of a planet left, if I recall.” The First Order had depleted the planet’s resources, leaving the remaining inhabitants without goods to export. “What does any of this have to do with me?”

“ _Intel_ .” Vihaan grinned. “The First Order hasn’t been defeated _yet_.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “There’s movement in the Unknown Region. Prove yourself and I might be able to pull a few strings for you.”

Scoria’s brows drew together as she turned to stare at him. “What kind of strings?”

“Repayment for your continued loyalty to the cause.” He gestured to himself. “I don’t have skin the game, but I have powerful associates that do. Play your cards right and you might just win big.”

The First Order’s efforts in the Unknown Regions were largely… _unknown_. There had been a rumor that the Empire had fled into the Unknown Regions decades ago — building a fleet that could rival the creations of the First Order. In the final days of the First Order there had been reports that Armitage Hux had been brokering a partnership with those same leaders. 

If the Empire had survived— 

“I want in.” 

Vihaan stroked his tentacles with a menacing grin. “Very good. You get me intel on the Resistance and I’ll make certain you are welcomed back into the fold.”

Scoria sat up straighter on the barstool, already working through a plan as it formed in her mind. She was good at intel. She’d excelled at reconnaissance missions in the Academy — it was one of the many reasons she was welcomed into the Special Forces. 

“You’ve got a deal, Vihaan.” She remarked, slowly turning to look at him with an equally menacing smirk twisting at the corners of her lips. 

He reached into the front pocket of his vest, laying a comlink on the bar between them. “If you run into any problems, it’s an encrypted line.” 

She snatched it off the bar, carefully tucking it into her boot at her calf. “I won’t have any problems.” She tilted her head to look at him before she remarked, “Thanks for the tip.” Scoria slid off the stool, tossing a couple credits on the bar. 

“Leaving so soon?” Vihaan arched a brow, watching her. 

“I’ll let you know once I find something out.” She tapped two fingers against her brow in mock-salute, before she turned for the exit. Scoria glanced back over her shoulder, catching the way Vihaan was still watching her. 

She didn’t trust the man any farther than she could throw him, but if he was truly able to get her in good with what remained of the Empire, then she’d do whatever it took. 

Scoria made her way back to _The Inheritance_ by way of level 232. The Haysian Shipyard wasn’t much to look at. It was a serviceable place, much like what you’d expect in the Outer Rim. Three bays, two of which were occupied with Resistance X-Wings. At least Vihaan had been right about something so far. But there was nothing she could do tonight. Gus was waiting for her back on the ship and she had a plan to devise. 

With the promise of tomorrow, she no longer felt like she was drowning. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting ready to dump the five chapters I had written and forgotten to post. Oops.

Poe had gone to bed with a splitting headache and had woken up with one still throbbing at his temples. Finn was home and he couldn’t even enjoy it. A few fleeting days away from training and the first two had been spoiled by politics. His work came home with him, whether he wanted it to or not. 

“Do you think I’m  _ too _ hotheaded?” Poe questioned as he blew on his caf to cool it off. Finn was seated across from him, brows furrowed in thought as he mulled over the morning news from HNN. It was the perfect time to catch him off guard. 

Finn glanced up, “This feels like a trap.” 

“It’s not… well, not  _ entirely _ .” He shrugged, sipping at the black caf. “I’m not saying I don’t already know I’m hotheaded — I’ve been told that enough times to know it’s true. But do you think I’m too hotheaded to be a leader?”

Finn sat the datapad down and folded his hands atop the table. “I don’t personally think you’re  _ too _ hotheaded. I’m actually pretty fond of it when you use it for good.” He answered with a genuine tone that made Poe smile. “What happened?”

He sank back in his seat and shrugged a shoulder. “Deliberations were a disaster yesterday. I’m not meant to be a politician, Finn. Politicians are poised and tactful. I just tell it like it is. Whether anyone wants to hear it or not.” He raked his fingers through his hair and hung his head. “I apparently pissed off the delegates from Coruscant.”

“ _ Poe _ .” Finn sighed. 

“I’ve told Lando a dozen times over — I’m a General, not a politician. You drag me into these debates and I’m going to voice my opinions.  _ Loudly _ and with some force.” He rubbed at the back of his neck. 

Finn’s shoulder shook as he tried not to laugh, but it escaped nonetheless. “Sorry.  _ Sorry _ . It’s just… It’s almost like he set you up for failure. We all know that you’re  _ you _ .”

Poe groaned and dragged his hands over his face, “I am stressed  _ all _ the time.” 

“The headache?”

He nodded. 

Finn’s frown deepened and he leaned across the table to take his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re a  _ good _ General. Don’t let this get to you.” 

Poe stared at their hands, rubbing his thumb over the back of Finn’s hand. “I wish you were here more.”

“Me too.” He sighed. “But you know that isn’t going to happen, right?” Finn chewed on his bottom lip as he met his gaze. “Things are going really well for me on Ahch-To. My training is progressing and I’ve even started working with the other students.”

Poe’s shoulders sank. “I know.” As much as he wanted to insist that Finn spend more time in Cloud City with him, he knew it wasn’t possible. Cyro had reamed him out enough about it. Finn was thriving and he had to support that. Whether he liked it or not. “Have you leaned to do anything new lately?” He questioned. 

Finn arched a brow, “ _ Really _ ?” He was right to be skeptical about his interests. Poe had never been interested in the Force. 

“Sure.”

“Oh, well.  _ Um _ .” Finn cleared his throat and laughed. “Putting me on the spot there.” He glanced around the apartment, “I’ve been working on this.” He closed his eyes and held his hand palm-side up. 

Poe watched curiously. 

Nothing happened at first, but then Finn’s brow creased with his effort and all at once Poe’s cup of caf lifted up off the table and floated across to Finn’s hand. 

“ _ Wow _ .” He remarked, a small smile playing over his lips as Finn opened his eyes. 

“Still working on it, though. Rey and Ben make it look easy.” He passed the caf back to Poe. “I didn’t think you wanted to know about what I was learning.”

“I’m trying.” Poe shrugged, rubbing his hands together. “I’m pretty partial to you, you know, so I figured I should try to like  _ all _ of you. Force abilities included.”

Finn feigned offense, “Do you always marry people you’re just  _ partial _ to?”

He rolled his eyes. “Only one person has been crazy enough to marry me.” 

“I really am impressed that you’re acting so  _ casual _ about this.” Finn said gently, reaching across the table to take Poe’s hand into his again. “I know how you feel about the Force.”

“And I know that your training matters to you.” Poe took a sip of the caf and sighed. “I’m never going to be fully alright with any of it, but I can learn.”

“Thank you.” Finn said as he rose from his seat and moved around the table to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Do you have any meetings today? I could accompany you. Moral support.” 

“Yeah. I do.” Poe smiled up at him. “It would be a nice change of pace.” He had always wanted what his parents had — the give and take, the balance. He had that with Finn. “I just hope this kriffing headache stops.”

“Will you see the offended delegates today?”

Poe grimaced. “Yeah. Apparently I’m supposed to apologize.”

“Who knew Mustafar was freezing over today.”

Poe feigned offense, “Excuse me. I know how to apologize.”

Finn scoffed and mockingly retorted. “ _ Okay _ .”

“I am  _ alarmed _ by how much that sounded like Ben Solo.” Poe made a face. “I retract my previous statement. You’re spending more time at home. You’ve clearly been with them for too long.” He rubbed at his temples in a vain attempt to soothe the pain there. 

He snapped his fingers and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. Sorry.” He laughed breezily and grinned at Poe.

“It was worth a try.” He drank down the rest of his caf, rising from his seat. “Hopefully after this meeting my headache will get lost. I was looking forward to hitting the city with you tonight.” Poe remarked, cleaning up his dishes as he headed into the kitchen. “Unwind.”

Finn followed after him. “We can always stay in and unwind.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Poe huffed as he sat his dishes in the sink. “We’re supposed to be out having fun when you’re home. Not sitting around like a Hutt.” 

He shrugged. “Quiet nights at home can be nice too.”

Poe arched a brow. “I suppose I could be convinced.” 

Finn smirked. 

* * *

Despite spending the better part of the past decade far away from the comforts of Naboo, Scoria found that she longed for the simplest aspects of the planet. The lofty domed rooflines, the grand decorative columns, the ancient buildings that seemed to have lives of their own. Naboo had culture, craftsmanship — something to be  _ proud _ of. Cloud City was the antithesis of all of that. A floating colony, austere in its design, sitting high among the clouds. She couldn’t even appreciate the setting sun as it was obscured by the sleek garish panels of metal clad walls. There was hardly any beauty to be found in the fevered hues of yellow and ember as they gleamed through the glass walls, blindingly reflected back into the faces of the bustling crowds of tourists, residents, and workers alike. 

But the unremarkable obscurity of Cloud City worked in her favor. She doubted even Vihaan would recognize her in the light of the fading afternoon. Last night she had been dressed in her proverbial armor — dark colors, leather, hair slicked back and knotted atop her head. Simply put, she had looked  _ severe _ . Today, she matched the sun as it filtered through the clouds. A loose amber colored tunic, cinched tight around her waist with a soft suede belt. She’d softened her appearances, let her hair flow in loose waves around her cheeks, tied back with cotton strips. A familiar remnant of childhood summers spent playing in the swamps. 

This wasn’t Scoria Baize, not dressed like this. Scoria wasn’t the name of a crestfallen trader from Naboo. That was a harsh name, one that could be hissed from the lips of cruel people.  _ Scoria _ wasn’t the name of a woman who could be easily trusted. 

“Ria Rix.” Scoria offered as she extended her hand towards the tall man who had greeted her at the entrance of the shipyard. He had kind eyes — the sort that she recognized belonged to men who could be  _ easily _ duped by a woman’s friendly words. How many times had she played this part? She had learned a long time ago that intel could  _ always _ be coaxed out of a man by a pretty woman. 

“Cyro,” He introduced himself as he reached out to shake her hand. Her eyes scanned over him, making note of the fact that he looked like the sort of man who would own a shipyard. He seemed at ease in his grease stained trousers. Cyro had lovely dark hair that curled around his ears and dark eyes that were not unlike her own. At least he was handsome — that made it that much easier for her. Resistance sympathizer, notwithstanding. 

He folded his arms across his chest casually, leaning his hip against the speeder bike that he’d been in the midst of repairing when she came in. “Are you having trouble with your ship?”

“I am.” Scoria mirrored his posture, crossing her arms loosely across her chest. Most people mirrored one another unconsciously, but in this case — she knew what had to be done. It was one of the quickest ways to create a sense of familiarity between two people. “I was delivering cargo in Port Town and I ran into a lick of trouble.” She scrunched up her nose as she rubbed at the side of her neck. “I attempted to repair it myself, but I ended up making it worse.” 

Cyro nodded his head as he listened to her, brows drawn together with concern. “I’m sorry to hear that, Ria.” 

Scoria let her shoulders sink, casting her gaze downwards in an attempt to play up just how  _ guileless _ she was. “I was told your shipyard was the  _ best _ on Cloud City.” 

“I appreciate the flattery,” He remarked with a hearty chuckle, dragging his fingers through his hair, before he nodded his head in the direction of a small waiting room just beyond a glass partition. “Let’s get some information into the system then, so we can get you back in the air.” 

She flashed him an adoring smile, before she followed him into the waiting room. “Thank you, Cyro.” 

“Don’t thank me yet, you’re still grounded.” He quipped teasily. “Do you think you’d be able to get your ship here? I’m assuming you’ve got it docked in Port Town still?”

“It’s pretty dead.” She grimaced, meeting his eyes. “I attempted to open up the power generator panels and poke around last night when I started having issues… but I ended up killing it. I think. There was smoke.” 

In reality, she’d spent most of the night orchestrating a system malfunction that would mimic the hack job repairs made by an unsavvy pilot. She’d effectively killed her entire power system, but in such a way that it wouldn’t appear rigged. 

Cyro failed to notice the way she pouted her bottom lip during her retailing. He was too focused on whatever he was looking at on the datapad he’d picked up off the desk. Clearly, she’d have to try harder on him. She’d been certain that she could exploit the fact that men  _ loved _ playing hero to a naive woman. 

Scoria wound her finger through a loose curl as she stepped towards him, peering at the datapad. “Taking notes?”

“ _ Mhm _ .” Cyro shrugged a shoulder. “You mentioned that you started having issues last night?”

She pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek, but quickly masked her annoyance. Not that he was even looking at her. “Yes. After I unloaded my cargo, I noticed a couple red lights flashing on my control panel. I thought something might’ve been loose? I’ve seen that before.” She stepped around him and perched herself on the edge of the desk. “So I opened things up and started tinkering.” 

This man was  _ all _ business. 

“Likely an issue with the power generator. Is there any chance you fueled up with a contaminated batch of rhydonium?”

“ _ Maybe _ .” She shrugged, fingers curling around the edge of the desk. “I haven’t had any major issues before now.” 

Cyro nodded his head abstentedly, before he turned to look at her. “I can send a pair of T3 droids down to retrieve your ship, seeing as it’s dead.” He passed her the datapad he’d been using. “These are our rates. You’ll see that they’re very comparable to other shipyards. We try to keep labor costs low.” He offered her a small smile. “And we have a credit installment plan if you think that’s something you’ll need.” 

Scoria took the datapad from him, careful to ensure that her fingers brushed against his as she took it. She glanced down at the figures he’d drawn up for her. They were  _ very _ reasonable rates, all things considered. She could easily pay it off — but that wouldn’t give her a reason to stay connected to the shipyard. “Oh.” She frowned, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Shipment orders have been sparse lately. Are you willing to work for trade?”

“Depends on what you trade,” He remarked with a suave smile. She couldn’t tell if it was just how he smiled or if he’d finally picked up on what she was offering. 

“Plasma.” She held his gaze for a few seconds longer, before she lowered her gaze to her lap. “I’m not proud of the fact that I can’t cover the costs of the repair. Things have been difficult the past few months. Trade routes are still rather unstable.” 

Cyro folded his arms across his chest, his head canted to the side as he studied her thoughtfully, “We might be able to work something out.” 

_ We _ . 

Scoria hadn’t realized that the shipyard wasn’t a solo venture for Cyro. Vihaan had failed to mention that. She recalled her walk through the repair bay with him — she had heard someone in another bay, singing along to the radio. 

One person was hard enough to smooth talk, two would pose a real issue for her. 

She didn’t miss a beat, “ _ Really _ ? You have no idea how much it would mean to me if you’d make that work.” Scoria slid off the edge of the desk, her eyes fixed on him once more. “You’re sure you’re in the market for plasma?”

He shrugged. “Who isn’t?” Cyro gestured towards the datapad she’d left on the desk, taking a swift step backwards to keep space between them. “You look that over and I’ll get Rose. I’m sure we can work something out with you to help you get on your way.” 

Scoria didn’t let her act slip even after Cyro had walked out the doorway, the glass partition didn’t allow her to. She played her fingers through her hair, winding a piece around her finger as she moved to sit down on the bench, sinking back against the wall with a quiet sigh. She hadn’t anticipated having to deal with someone else — Vihaan had only mentioned the owner, which she’d assumed to be Cyro. He already seemed to be difficult enough to work over, this Rose woman would be even less likely to blindly trust someone like her. 

She sat up straighter when Cyro returned with a petite woman at his side. She was dressed in dirty overalls, that were stained with grease even worse than his trousers were and her hair was thrown back into a messy ponytail. She was a rather unassuming woman, someone Scoria doubted she would’ve even recalled passing out on the streets. But Scoria could plainly see the way Cyro was looking at her. 

Like she’d hung the stars with her bare hands.  _ Disgusting _ . 

“Rose, this is Ria.” Cyro stated as he returned to the waiting room with a woman at his side. 

Scoria smiled brightly at her, unwilling to crack under pressure. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rose.” She said, offering Rose her hand. 

“Sorry,” Rose laughed, scrubbing her hands on her overalls before she shook her head. “So what happened?”

“Well,” She scrunched up her nose and laughed awkwardly. “Like I was telling Cyro, I think I broke my ship. “I thought I knew what I was doing, but I really didn’t.”

“Likely the power generator.” Cyro added. 

“What class are you running?” Rose questioned, giving a pointed look between Scoria and Cyro. 

“It’s a modified Star Courier.” 

“Did you make the modifications?” 

Scoria opened her mouth to answer, but quickly caught herself before she answered the question incorrectly.. She’d already told Cyro that she hadn’t known her way around the vessel. She may have done the modifications herself — but  _ Ria _ certainly didn’t have those skills. “I commissioned the work several years ago.” 

“Interesting.” Rose pursed her lips. 

She nodded. “I didn’t have any issues with it until last night. I started getting these flashing red lights and I thought I could handle it. Scoria grimaced and tucked her hair behind her ears with a nervous laugh. “When I woke up this morning it was dead as a scrap droid.” She looked towards Cyro then with a too-sweet smile. “I’m really hoping we can come to an agreement on that payment alternative.” 

Rose cleared her throat and stepped in between the pair of them. “Cyro mentioned that you deal in plasma.” She stated and narrowed her eyes. “That’s quite the expensive export. You must be able to afford the repairs.” 

“I don’t—”

She cut her off, “It sounds like you’ll need an electrical system replacement. That’ll be around two days worth of work. Tops… You’re looking at 10,500 credits at the most. How much do you push your plasma for?” 

“ _ Rose _ …” Cyro gave her a look. 

“Oh, I don’t mind answering.” Scoria said with a soft laugh, still playing her attention towards Cyro. Just to unnerve Rose. “It usually goes for 210 credis per barrel, but there has been some deprecation lately. My shipment yesterday only fetched 110 credits per barrel.” She looked towards Rose then. “I would be willing to forgo payment for my next shipment.”

Rose’s brows furrowed together, “We could definitely use the plasma.”

Scoria looked towards Cyro then, offering him a hopeful simpering sort of smile. “Is that a deal?” 

“I’m not the one making that decision.” Cyro shrugged. 

_ Kriff _ . 

“Oh!” Scoria looked towards Rose apologetically then, shame flooding her cheeks with color. “I’m so sorry. I was led to believe that he ran the shipyard.” She nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I know how frustrating it is when someone assumes that the man is in charge. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine.” Rose tersely interrupted. “How much do you think you  _ could _ afford upfront?”

“Right now?” Scoria pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I could put down 500 credits.” 

Rose nodded. “Perfect.” She looked towards Cyro, “Can you go with the T3 droids and make sure there are no issues bringing the ship here?”

“Of course.” He smiled at her. 

“Hopefully it won’t require a full electrical system replacement, but if it does we’ll work out how you can pay it off.” She remarked, narrowing her eyes at Scoria. “Is there anything potentially hazardous on your ship?”

“Just a rambunctious Loth-cat.” 

“I’ll need you to keep the Loth-cat corralled while I work.” 

“Of course!” She clasped her hands together, rambling then. “But Gus is a sweetheart. He won’t cause you any trouble. I’ve had him for a long time and he’s rather friendly with strangers. He’ll love you” 

Rose laughed softly. “I’m sure.” 

Cyro reached out and rested his hand on Rose’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before he slid his hand down her back before he headed out of the waiting room. Scoria watched the interaction with rapt interest. She had been right to assume that  _ something _ was going on between the pair of them. The look on Rose’s face, albeit brief, told her everything she needed to know about the pair. Seducing the information out Cyro wasn’t going to be part of the plan —  _ unfortunately _ . She’d have to get more creative than that. 

“I really am sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“It’s alright.” Rose sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It happens more often than I’d care to admit.” 

“ _ Really _ ?” Scoria questioned, sinking down onto the bench against the wall and leaning back. 

If Rose was the one who owned the shipyard, then that meant she was the one who was from Hays Minor. The whole mining angle had been the reason why she’d gone with the plasma exporter cover. She had contacts in Naboo that would provide her with the plasma. She’d known them when they were all children — she knew the struggles they faced. A common ground found in a humble upbringing, that was the key to her cover story. 

Rose shrugged. “People —  _ men _ — still find it hard to believe that a woman would want to spend her time working on ships. Despite the fact I know a dozen highly successful women who own shipyards.” She turned her attention back to her datapad with a scoff. “They just assume we don’t want to get our hands dirty.” 

“I get that.” She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You wouldn’t believe how often I’m told that I should just stay home. That what I do is too dangerous for a woman.” Scoria tried not to lay it on too thick. Rose seemed distrustful and rightly so. If she tried to come across too sympathetic, she was certain the woman would see straight through her. 

She glanced up at her, arching a brow. “It’s only dangerous if you blow your entire electrical system.” Scoria stared back at Rose for a long moment, before they both started laughing. “I’m sure dealing plasma comes with its fair share of dicey situations.” 

“Unfortunately.” Rose was  _ not _ an easy person to read. She somehow managed to feel open and approachable, while also putting up an effective wall around herself. “Luckily,” Scoria ventured carefully, “I don’t have much trouble in Resistance occupied territories.” 

Rose noticeably stiffened. “You’re safe in Bespin then.” 

“Exactly!” She clasped her hands together. “Is it true that you service Resistance ships here?” 

“Who wants to know?”

She didn’t waver, “I just noticed the X-Wings in the bay when I came in.” She answered smoothly. “I just assumed you were working on them.”

“You make a lot of assumptions.”

“I spend a lot of time by myself,” Scoria explained, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s easy to get caught up in what you think you know about someone. The fantasy of it all.” 

“You don’t have anyone back on—?”

“Naboo.” Scoria interjected with a shake of her head. “Not really. I just have my grandmother. But I don’t see her that often because I’m usually off somewhere…  _ selling _ the plasma.” She lowered her gaze, staring down at her hands. A familiar sense of guilt settled back into her chest. Using Yané as a part of her cover felt wrong and yet she knew that piece of authenticity would help sell it. “It’s all I’ve ever really known.”

And there it was. 

Rose sat her datapad aside, folding her arms across her chest as she stared at Scoria. A glimmer of understanding — a kindred emotion. “I grew up in a mining family on Hays Minor. I know what it’s like to be insullar and stick with your family group.” 

Scoria followed Rose’s line of sight as she looked towards the doorway. Her brows drew together, as though caught up in thought. Was it Cyro she was thinking of? Someone back on her homeworld? Whatever thought she had was fleeting, her attention snapping back to Scoria. “Just be careful out there, Ria. Cloud City might have the Resistance, but not everyone here is  _ with _ the Resistance.” 

“I’ll take your advice.” She moved towards Rose ans dropped her voice to a whisper. “You’re with the Resistance, aren’t you?“ A deceptive flicker of hope glimmered in her eyes. 

“Look at you, finally making an accurate assumption.” Rose quipped with a wry smirk. 

A sensor beeped out in the repair bay and her expression shifted once more. “Cyro’s back with the droids and your ship.” She announced, gesturing out the doorway. “If you’ll collect your pet, I’ll start running diagnostics.”

“Thank you again, Rose. I really appreciate the help.” Scoria kept her eyes fixed on Rose, even though the woman’s attention was away from her. “And I’m happy to help however I can to cover the costs.” She leaned close, keeping her voice low. “Especially for the Resistance.”

“I’m sure I’ll think of something.” She remarked, before she slipped out the doorway towards the repair bay. 

Scoria’s jaw clenched tightly once she was able to slip out of her persona for a moment. The tension in her body that she’d tried to keep at bay returned, causing her back to stiffen. Vihaan had made espionage sound so easy. She should’ve known better than to trust a Quarren who was loitering in a place like The Floating Fish. 

Rose may have expected to repair  _ The Inheritance _ quickly, but Scoria had no plans to leave any time soon. She’d stay until she had what she wanted. The First Order may have failed, but Scoria had no plans to follow suit. 


	4. Chapter 4

“How many times have I told her that she can go somewhere  _ else  _ while I work on her ship?” Rose groused as she dug through a tool cart for the wrench she needed. She glanced to her left, where Ria was camped out in the waiting room. 

Cyro chuckled quietly. “I’ve lost count. It’s been a  _ few _ times.”

“I don’t—“ Rose thought twice before stating that she didn’t trust Ria. She had no reason  _ not _ to extend a modicum of trust towards her. “She’s odd.” She substituted. 

"That she is.” He rolled his shoulders. “The Loth-cat is cute. You’ve got to give her that.”

She shot him a look. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“About what? Getting a shop cat?”

Rose rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, fixating on switching out a piece of the wrench. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Cyro approached her from behind, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Are you jealous?” He gave her shoulders a squeeze, trying to ease the tension there. 

“Ha!” Rose turned around, brandishing the wrench at him. “So I was right to think she was  _ definitely  _ flirting with you.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it  _ flirting _ . But she was acting a certain way.” He took the wench from her and tucked into the pocket at her hip. “I think she might just be  _ odd _ .”

Rose pursed her lips, looking up at Cyro. “Not to jump into a sarlacc pit or anything,” She looked towards the waiting room briefly. “But I don’t think  _ The Inheritance _ came by these issues without a little help.”

“How so?” Cyro canted his head to the side. 

“Come here,” She took ahold of his hand and guided him up the ramp that led into Ria’s ship. “The modifications she had made to the courier should’ve eliminated the malfunction.” Rose explained, releasing Cyro’s hand as she knelt at the control panel. “The fuel line was replaced during the mods to run malastrian. But someone dumped a mix of rhydonium and anthracite into the line within the last day or two. I found traces of malastrian still in the system.” 

Cyro frowned. “I asked her about rhydonium. Didn’t seem like it phased her at all.” He rubbed at the back of his neck as he studied the fuel line. “Is it possible someone sabotaged her fuel line?”

Rose shrugged, “It wouldn’t cause any  _ real _ harm. A catastrophic system failure, sure. But whoever did this would’ve needed to be savvy about the mods made to the ship.”

He sat back on his knees, sighing heavily. “Are you insinuating what I think you’re insinuating?”

“Yeah.” Rose propped her elbow up on her knee, resting her chin on her palm. “I hate to accuse someone of self-sabotage, but someone would’ve needed to know this ship inside and out to  _ know _ that this would kill it.”

“I wouldn’t rule it out.” Cyro scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. “She did lay the cluelessness on thick.”

“The question is, what does she want?” Rose frowned. While Ria had questioned about the Resistance — it hadn’t really set off any warning bells. It was well known that the Resistance was in Cloud City. Plenty of people knew that they serviced the Resistance fleet. “She seemed interested in  _ you _ .”

Cyro pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, before he clicked it against his teeth. “I’ve never concealed my past. It’s possible she’s from a planet the First Order occupied.”

“She’s from Naboo.”

“ _ Hmm _ .” Cyro dragged his fingers through his hair and shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m sure there are plenty of people who have it out for me just because I was a Stormtrooper.”

Rose reached out and rested her hand on his forearm, brushing her fingers over his skin there. “It’s not like any of you had a choice.”

Cyro covered her hand with his own, offering her a gentle smile. “Not everyone has your heart, Rose.”

“Well, they should.” She scrunched up her nose. “We just need to keep an eye on her.”

He nodded his head slowly. “At least she’s making it easy for us.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, meeting her eyes. 

They hadn’t fully discussed last night yet. Not really. It had been just like every other time they’d gone to the cantina — only this time they’d held hands. Admitted their feelings for one another. He had tried to kiss her last night after he’d walked her home to her flat, but she’d gotten nervous. Who could blame her? She’d only ever had  _ one _ kiss — a foolhardy one at that. 

Rose had kicked herself in the ass all night over it. Just as he had leaned down to kiss her, she playfully punched him in the arm and told him  _ ‘good night’ _ like she might Poe or Finn. 

Presently, Cyro’s gaze had lowered to her lips as he shifted closer to her. Like he meant to kiss her. Just like last night. Only this time, she was not going to do something  _ stupid _ . This time, Rose tilted her chin, her lashes fluttering as her eyes closed. Her heart was hammering in her chest with anticipation — but the kiss never came. 

“Hello, Gus.” Cyro vexedly remarked, as the Loth-cat slinked towards them, rubbing up against his arm. 

Rose fixed Cyro with an annoyed look, before she called out with forced-cheerfulness. “Ria!” Can you please come get your pet?”

Gus pounced and landed on Rose’s lap, purring loudly as he rubbed his head against her chest. She caved and gave the cat a scratch behind his ears. 

“Ria!”

She rounded the corner with a sympathetic grimace, “I’m so sorry! I was looking for his treats in my quarters and he got loose.” Ria leaned down and picked him up off Rose’s lap. “How’s it going?”

Aside from her cat interrupting what could’ve been her first kiss with Cyro? “Fine.” Rose gritted out, pulling the wrench out of her pocket and gestured at the open paneling. “Still working on seeing if anything salvageable.”

“When was the last time you fueled up?” Cyro questioned. 

Rose watched Ria closely, making note of how carefully guarded her expression was. It only proved to make that knot of doubt in her gut twist tighter. 

“Before I left Naboo for Cloud City.” She answered breezily, before she held up a hand. “Wait, no… I topped off when I landed here.” Ria laughed softly, tucking hair behind her ear as she looked at Cyro. “You mentioned contaminated fuel. Is it looking like that’s the issue?” 

She really  _ really _ disliked the moon-eyed look Ria kept giving Cyro. Rose knew he was attractive — she could see, after all. But in the course of being friends with him, she’d never had to put up with someone else acting interested in him. Except for Poe, but he flirted with  _ everyone _ when he drank. Ever since  _ The Retribution _ , everyone just treated them like Rose and Cyro. Like they went together naturally. She hadn’t had someone who tried to interrupt that. 

Not that Ria was  _ really _ a threat. 

Cyro shrugged, “Rose and I haven’t ruled it out yet.” 

Ria nodded her head and smiled. “Well, I trust you’ll find out what the issue is. Hopefully I’ll be out of your hair sooner rather than later.” 

“That’s the plan.” Rose said with a tightlipped smile and an even tighter grip on the wrench in her fist. Cyro reached over and snatched it out of her hand, twirling it between his fingers. 

“Back to it.” Cyro winked at her and it set her nerves at ease. 

“Cyro,” Ria started, lingering in the corridor with Gus. “Have you ever been to Naboo?” 

He shook his head. 

“You should both visit some time,” Ria looked towards Rose then. “Theed is gorgeous. It’s unlike anything here in Bespin.” 

Cyro picked up the bolts from the control panel, tossing them idly in his palm. “Maybe one day.” 

“Is Cloud City home for you?” She questioned Cyro. “Or are you from Hays Minor like Rose?”

He hesitated, his jaw clenched tightly as he mulled over the answer. “Yeah. Cloud City’s home.” His past was still shrouded in the shadows made by the First Order — distant memories that were just out of reach. He recalled minute details; the color of his mother’s eyes, an old nursery rhyme his father sang to him, how his name sounded when his grandmother visited. But his homeworld was unknown — and a tender spot. 

Ria’s lips parted like she meant to continue with her questioning, but she caught the look that Rose was giving her and thought better of it. “I’ll leave you to work.” 

Cyro shook the bolts in his palm, turning to look at Rose with a questioning look. 

Rose canted her head to the side and mirrored his expression. “I wasn’t going to beat her with the wrench.”

“One can never be too certain.” He teased, passing the wrench back to her. “I never thought I’d be the type to say this, but — you’re cute when you’re jealous.” A faint blush rose on his cheeks and it made Rose grin, despite herself. 

“I’m not jealous.” 

“ _ Mhm _ .” 

He always knew precisely how to get her hackles raised. “She could be here to kill you for all we know.” 

“Or you.” He pointed out. 

“ _ Me _ ?” Rose rolled her eyes and defensively crossed her arms across her chest. “She’s definitely interested in you, not me.” 

“Jealous.” Cyro dragged the word out, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“I’m not jealous.” Rose countered, lowering her voice. “I just don’t  _ trust  _ her.” There she’d said it. 

He frowned. “Neither do I.” At least he was in agreement with her. 

“And I have no reason to distrust her.” Rose tried to rationalize. “But something about her feels—“

“— off.” Cyro finished. “Personally, I thought she was trying too hard. A bit too forward.”

She nodded her head in agreement. “Exactly!” Rose snapped her fingers. “Then again, we might just know a lot of cagey people.”

Cyro laughed. “ _ Touché _ .” He picked up the durasteel panel, reinstalling it. “My best advice is that we get this ship out of here as soon as possible.”

“I agree.” Rose smiled a little. “It looks like we’re going to have a long night ahead of us.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Cyro quipped, rubbing at the back of his neck as he looked at her. “I should go run diagnostics on the shield generators. Make sure there aren’t any malfunctions there.” 

He started to step past her, but Rose reached out and caught his wrist, keeping him from leaving. “About last night.” She started, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip.

“Don’t stress it.” Cyro pulled his arm out of her grasp, curling his fingers around her hand. “We did agree to take things slow after all.” 

“Easier said than done.” Rose’s cheeks burned as she tilted her head to look up at him, her eyes searching his. “I don’t want to lose this.” She gestured between them. Still she worried that he would choose to leave Cloud City. He might call it home, but she knew it wasn’t. 

Cyro lifted his hand to cup her cheek gently, brushing his thumb over the rise of her cheekbone. “You’re not going to lose anything.” He assured her, a smile lighting up his features. “Especially not because you punched me in the arm when I attempted to kiss you goodnight.” He teased. 

“I’m still mortified.” She deadpanned, playfully shoving him in the chest. “But I think we should keep things professional while we’re here. For now.” Rose sighed, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. “Subject to change.” 

“I agree.” Cyro’s fingers played gently over her cheek before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stepped back. “ _ Now _ , I’ll go check on the shield generators.” 

“You do that.” Rose said as she watched him leave. She didn’t want to ruin the dynamic they had. They worked good together when they repaired ships — she didn’t want to lose that in favor of getting distracted thinking about what his lips would feel like. Which was  _ ridiculous _ . She had bigger issues to worry about. Like figuring out who Ria Rix was. 

* * *

The Vapor Room was  _ quaint _ . It was the only word Scoria had to describe the hole-in-the-wall atmosphere that was provided by the cantina that Cyro and Rose had recommended to her. She had considered returning to the Floating Fish, but she would rather be dead than hit the casino dressed like she was. She was soft and approachable. It was bad enough that she had to put up with the customers of the Vapor Room — working class residents looking for cheap ale and friendly faces. She felt exposed among them, far from the comfort of  _ The Inheritance _ and the pleasures of an armored facade. 

“I see my suspicions were correct.” Scoria remarked as she sat her glass down on the bar and settled onto the stool beside Vihaan. “Comm’s a tracker. Isn’t it?” She questioned, keeping her eyes focused ahead. 

“ _ Clever _ .” He stroked one of the tentacles that hung from his chin and smirked at her. “Did you figure that out before or after you saw me?”

“You didn’t strike me as a fool. I would’ve done the same.” She shrugged and gestured for the bartender to refill her drink. Scoria leaned an elbow on the bar and angled herself towards the Quarren then. “You gave me bad information.” 

“Oh?” Vihaan chuckled. “And what  _ bad _ information did I give you?”

“There’s two of them at the repairyard.” 

“I never said how many there were.” 

“It was  _ implied _ .” Scoria rolled her eyes and offered a brief thanks to the bartender as she refilled her drink. “I don’t like going into a situation blind.” 

“I told you the owner was from Hays Minor.” Vihaan shrugged. “You didn’t ask for anything else.” 

“In order for this little partnership,” Scoria gestured between them. “to work, I need to be  _ informed _ . Fully.” She canted her head to the side as she took a sip of her liquor. “What do you know about them?”

Vihaan knocked back a healthy swig of his mead before he sat the tankard on the bar and shifted closer to her. “What do you wish to know about them, Scoria?” 

“It’s  _ Ria _ .” She corrected, tucking a loose curl behind her ear for show. She offered Vihaan a sickeningly sweet smile, before her usual look of annoyance returned. 

“Cute.” He laughed. “What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you know about Cyro.” Scoria questioned as she ran her finger around the rim of her glass. “I know Rose is from Hays Minor, but Cyro wasn’t very forthcoming about his history.” 

The Quarren leaned an elbow against the bar, keeping his voice low as he spoke. “Rumors would suggest that in a former life he was a Stormtrooper.”

“ _ Really _ ?” Scoria scoffed. “I should’ve known the Resistance was playing  _ house _ with bucketheads.” She picked her glass up and took a sip. “Do you know anything else? Anything you should’ve told me  _ before _ ?”

Vihaan shook his head. “I was hoping you would be the one to get  _ me _ information.” He leaned towards her. “I thought you said you wouldn’t have any problems.”

“I’m not amused.” She gritted out. “This isn’t a problem.” Scoria gestured to the bartender to refill her drink. “Besides, you found me. Not the other way around.” 

She reached down and plucked the commlink out of a small space within her boot, sitting it on the bar between them. “Don’t track me.”

“I like keeping track of my allies.” Vihaan pushed the comm back towards her. “Keep it.”

Scoria kept her eyes fixed on him as she brought her glass to her lips and took a sip. She sat the glass back down, before she snatched the comm off the bar, tucking it back into her boot. “Don’t track me.” 

With a short nod, Vihaan leaned against the bar. “Think of it less like tracking and more like… checking in on a friend.” 

“We’re not friends.” Scoria reminded him, “You are a means to an end for me.” 

“Associates?” 

She shrugged, dragging her thumb around the rim of her glass. “There’s a storm coming. I heard a few merchants discussing it in the streets on my way here.” Scoria turned to look at Vihaan then. “Should limit travel for the next week.I plan to use it to my advantage.” 

“Adaptability is such a refreshing trait.” He remarked. “I so rarely see it from the First Order.” 

Her jaw clenched, “Because the First Order was a facsimile of the Empire. It failed, in every way, to replicate its magnificence.” She stared down at her nearly empty glass, brows drawn together. 

The stories her mother had told her were still burned into her mind. The Empire had sought to bring order to the galaxy. Peace through control. They had been so close to success too. The galaxy had only just begun to bend to the whims of the Empire, when it all fell apart. Undone by the ne’re-do-well rebels, who still sought to ruin everything. The rebels were the reason she grew up without parents. 

The only silver lining was Yané. Had different choices been made, different paths tread upon — Yané wouldn’t be in her life. 

“How long were you in?” Vihaan questioned as he gestured for the bartender to refill her drink. 

“Eight years.” She sighed and rubbed at the back of her neck. “I could’ve been in longer if I had known what my legacy was.” Scoria glanced towards her companion, making note of the way he seemed distracted. 

“It’s not over yet.” He assured her. He slid off the bar stool, knocking back the rest of his mead. “I’ll be back.” Vihaan curled his fingers around her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t go anywhere.” 

Scoria dragged her fingers through her hair and leaned against the bar with a heavy sigh. She glanced up as the bartender returned to refill her glass. “Thanks.” 

“You good?” The Twi’lek questioned as she met Scoria’s gaze before she looked in the direction that Vihaan had headed in. Scoria had noticed the way the woman had kept an eye on whatever was going on between her and Quarren. 

Unlike most Twi’lek she had encountered, this one was dressed modestly — long sleeves covering her pale purple skin. Even the headdress she wore around her lekku was subdued. 

Scoria nodded her head with a faint smile. “Yeah.” She shrugged a shoulder casually. “He’s an old friend.” 

“Well if you need  _ anything _ , I’m Nima.” She offered Scoria her hand across the bar. “I’ve unfortunately got some experience in kicking  _ trouble _ out of here.” 

“Ria.” Scoria answered as she shook the woman’s hand. “I can handle myself just fine, but it’s nice to know someone might have my back.” 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before,” Nima remarked as she wiped down the bar. “Just passing through?”

“Something like that.” Scoria curled her fingers around her glass and swirled the liquid around inside of it. “Had some issues with my ship and needed to stick around for a few days.” She cocked her head and glanced around the cantina. “Seems like a nice place.”

“It has its moments.” She gave a short laugh. “There’s always something happening here. Not always here — but on Cloud City.”

“I noticed.” Scoria pursed her lips. “I went to a casino last night, can’t remember on what level but… it was something.” Of course she remembered exactly where she’d gone. But Nima didn’t need to know that. After all, Rose had recommended the cantina — she had to continue playing the part. 

“So how do you know him? Seems like the pair of you were at odds with each other.” Nima observed. 

“Trade.” She answered shortly. 

Nima nodded. “Must be nice. Venturing out beyond a single region.”

Scoria frowned. “I’m guessing you don’t get out much?”

“No.” The Twi’lek ducked her head.

“Nima!” Someone called out down the length of the bar, clinking his glass atop the counter.

“I’ll be back.” Nima smiler at Scoria, before she left to tend to the customers. 

Before the First Order, she had never left Naboo. She knew that look in Nima’s eyes, she had seen it in her own reflection. 

“Is it money?” Scoria questioned once she returned. 

“What?”

“Why you haven’t left. I know transportation costs are up due to the war.”

Nima shook her head solemnly. “Even if I had the credits, I can’t really leave.”

“Why?”

Nima’s lips parted, poised to answer her, but she thought better of it. “How long are you in town?”

“Maybe a week.” 

“I’m off, day after next.” Nima glanced around the bar warily. “I can’t really talk about it on the job.”

With curiosity thoroughly piqued, Scoria arched a brow. “Where do you want to meet?”

Nima cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. Before she had a chance to answer, Vihaan returned. 

“Sorry about that.” He offered as he settled back into his seat, glancing in between Nima and Scoria. “Did I miss something?”

Scoria shook her head, her lips drawn into a thin line. “I was asking for recommendations.” 

Nima busied herself with reorganising the bottles of colorful liquor behind the bar. “Figg and Associates is supposed to have an extensive collection. I haven’t had a chance to go yet.”

Scoria sipped her liquor. “I’ll have to put that on my list.” 

“Need a refill?” Nima questioned Vihaan, gesturing to his empty drink. 

“I’m good.” He waved her off. 

“Where did you run off to?” Scoria questioned with an arched brow. “Tracking another associate, are we?”

Vihaan smirked. “You’re wise to assume that you’re not the only  _ friend _ I have doing my dirty business.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth, leaning in close to whisper. “Clock’s ticking. It would be a shame to see your dreams vanish.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face, the action causing her to startle.

He whistled to get Nima’s attention. “She’ll cover my tab.” He jerked his head in Scoria’s direction. “Till next time.” Vihaan gave her shoulder a squeeze, before he departed from the cantina.

“ _ Echuta _ .” She muttered under breath as she pulled the credits out of her pocket and threw them on the bar. “I’m short.”

“It’s fine.” Nima said apologetically. “What’s his deal?”

Scoria tensed, her eyes snapping to take in the Twi’lek’s expression. She seemed genuine in her concern, but she couldn’t risk it. “He’s losing out on profits with my ship out of commotion. Vi’s a curmudgeon.” She played off her own frustrations. “ _ Thanks _ .”

“You’re welcome, Ria.” Nima smiled. “See you around?”

“Midday at Figg?” Scoria suggested as she rose to her feet. She knew she shouldn’t care, it wasn’t part of the plan — but she wanted to know what her story was. Something in her eyes had caught her interest. 

Figuring Nima out wouldn’t derail her plans to infiltrate the Resistance. If she played it right, it might even benefit the cause. 


	5. Chapter 5

Durasteel made for a poor substitute for a bed. Cyro grimaced as he woke up, keenly aware of the cramp in his neck from sleeping propped up against the unforgiving cold metal. His arm felt like pins and needles where Rose was pressed against him and he didn’t have the heart to wake her up as she sniffed and shifted closer into his side.

He wasn’t entirely certain when they fell asleep, but the scattered bolts that were strewn across the floor around his thighs told him that they had been attempting to sort through spare parts when they’d both given in to exhaustion.

It had been awhile since they’d tried to work through the night on a vessel. The last time had been for Snap —  _ of course  _ — when he had blown his compressor system during a foolhardy test flight on the eve before he was set to lead a mission into a potentially dangerous sector. 

Rose had been determined to complete the task and Cyro had been more than willing to make her goal come true. Even in the early days, he had known just how special she was to him. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before. 

His memories of his childhood were deeply fragmented — he recalled minor details of moments. Most of his adult memories were marred by the trauma he had experienced as a Stormtrooper. The grueling training, the callous leadership. Every moment of his life being dictated and ruled by someone else. He had been just a number, without autonomy. Sure, he had formed friendships — but they were meaningless. Friends turned on friends. There was no sanctity in that bond. 

Rose wasn’t like that. Rose viewed friendship as one of the most valuable commodities in life. She cared about  _ everyone _ — selflessly. She worked herself to the bone, simply because she thought it was the right thing to do.

Cyro brushed his fingers gingerly over her temple, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. There was nowhere else he’d rather be than beside her. Sorting through the emotions he felt for her hand been a struggle. He hadn’t wanted to lose  _ this _ . 

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand relationships, he wasn’t naive by any means — but it was never part of life as a Stormtrooper. It was as foreign as home. But that desire had always remained, because they were all still  _ human _ . He had yearned for true companionship and he’d found that with Rose.

They spent countless hours together and he never tired of her. Maybe she was tired of him, but it didn’t show.

What they had wasn’t as easily defined as what their friends’ had. Ben and Rey had a deeper connection that laid within the Force itself, while Finn and Poe were haplessly in love with one another. He just wanted Rose’s companionship. And to kiss her. He  _ really _ wanted to kiss her and he didn’t care if that made him a sap.

“ _ Rosie _ .” He murmured, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “We’ve been asleep for a few hours. We need to get up.” He shifted his numb arm beneath her, stroking her back slightly. 

Rose grumbled and shifted to tuck herself further into his side, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. “Sleeping.”

“You can’t possibly be comfortable.” He wiggled his fingers as he regained feeling in his hand. “Come on.” Cyro kissed the top of her head again before he put a little more effort into discombobulating them. 

Rose scrunched up her nose and sank back against the wall, “I’ll have you know.” She started, stifling a yawn. “I  _ was _ comfortable.”

“Sure you were.” Cyro leaned down and ruffled her hair, before he offered her his hand. “So much for our plans to work through the night.”

Rose squeezed his hand as he pulled her up to her feet. “We made headway… I think.” She glanced down at the scattered bolts, her hands going to her hips. “I think I still need about three more hours of sleep.” 

Cyro reached out to brush his thumb against her cheekbone, catching a stray eyelash. “Make a wish.” He whispered as he presented it to her. 

Rose beamed up at him and he swore his heart skipped a beat. “You remembered!” She closed her eyes and made her wish, blowing the eyelash off his thumb. 

“Of course I remembered.” He assured her, tucking his hands into his pockets with a grin. “What did you wish for?”

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.” Her cheeks flushed pink  — which told him everything he needed to know about her wish. 

Cyro’s lips drew upwards at the corners. “But if you tell me, I might be able to make it come true.” He took a step towards her. 

Rose flustered, “ _ Really _ ?” 

He nodded. 

She chewed on her bottom lip and his gaze was drawn towards the action. He had wanted to kiss her since their date to the cantina. Since before that — if he was being honest with himself. The thought had actually crossed his mind in that period of elation, when they celebrated victory on Ajan Kloss. But it never came. And once they fell into a comfortable pattern with each other, he hadn’t wanted to ruin it. 

“Rose—” Cyro started softly as he reached out to rest his hand at the curve of her hip, leaning in to kiss her. His lips were a breath away from hers, but the sound of metal floor plates creaking behind them made him hesitate. 

“ _ Hey _ .” 

Despite his origins, Cyro wasn’t a violent man by nature — but in that moment he  _ really _ wanted to kill Ria for interrupting them. For the second time. She truly had impeccable timing. 

He reluctantly released his hold on Rose, casually combing his fingers through his hair as he turned around to face Ria. “ _ Morning _ .” He muttered, clenching his jaw. 

“Technically, it’s still evening.” She remarked with a coy grin as she looked between them, leaning against the bulkhead. “I just got back from the Vapor Room. You were right, it’s a  _ great _ place.” Ria gestured between them, “Was I interrupting?” 

Rose stepped around Cyro, clearing her throat nervously. “No, we were just… discussing the next phase of repairs.” She clasped her hands together, before gesturing to the panel to their left. “We managed to isolate the issue. It  _ was _ tampering with your fuel lines that ultimately forced your system to malfunction”

Ria frowned, crossing her arms across her chest. “Can you fix it?”

“It might take another day.” Rose admitted with a sigh. He knew she wanted to get rid of Ria sooner rather than later, but it wasn’t a rush job. Especially if they fell asleep in the middle of the work.

The interior lights of  _ The Inheritance _ cast a long shadow across Ria’s features. “That’s fine.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I actually have plans for the day after next. There’s no rush.” 

“ _ Oh _ .” Rose pursed her lips and gave Cyro a sideways glance. “In that case, we should probably close up shop for the night and try to get a little sleep.” She started forward, but Ria stepped in front of her. 

“I actually had a proposition for both of you.” Ria started, her gaze flickering towards Cyro briefly. “You’re well connected within the Resistance. Right?” 

Cyro watched carefully as Rose took a step backwards, arms crossed securely across her chest. He could see the way her back had gone rigid at that line of questioning. It was no  _ secret _ . Plenty of people knew that the Resistance had taken up residency on Cloud City  — but after so many years of secrecy, Rose and her friends were reasonably hesitant about anyone questioning them.

He stepped closer, ghosting his hand over her back to reassure her. “We are.” Cyro answered, cocking his head to the side as he met Ria’s eyes. “Why?”

She answered with such practiced ease that Cyro found himself even more convinced that she was up to  _ something _ . “I was hoping I might be able to meet General Dameron for myself and offer my assistance.”

“How?” Rose questioned.

Ria laughed. “Plasma, of course. After my ship is repaired, I intend to return to Naboo to get a shipment to pay you for your services. But I thought I might be able to donate part to the cause.” She shrugged a shoulder and sighed. “Think about it?”

“That’s an  _ extremely _ considerate offer, Ria.” He stated, chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “Are you sure you’re willing to sacrifice that much of an income?” 

“It’s for the greater good. Isn’t it?”

Rose reached behind her back and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. “Honestly, I’m sure Poe would be thrilled.” 

It was a  _ good _ offer. Despite overthrowing the First Order, the Resistance still had work to do eradicating the last strongholds of the organization. Plasma would be a massive benefit to the cause. They couldn’t just say no. 

“Perfect.” Ria smiled brightly as she looked between them. “I’m free tomorrow if he is.” 

Rose nodded her head slowly. “I’ll contact him first thing in the morning. I’ll be busy with the final repairs but, I’m sure Cyro wouldn’t mind accompanying you.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips drawn into a thin and noticeably forced smile. 

“Of course.” Cyro pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, clicking it against his teeth. “I’d be happy too.” 

Ria seemed far too pleased with herself. “I’d like that.” She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Rose, you’ll let me know if the General agrees?”

“Yep.” Rose said shortly. 

Ria was undeterred by Rose’s tone, he had to give her credit there. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to doing my part. I realize I should’ve stepped up sooner and offered my assistance to the Resistance.” Her gaze flickered towards Cyro as a smirk played over her lips. 

His brows furrowed. Something about the look niggled at the back of his mind. He had seen it before. It wasn’t just the glint of mischief he found in her gaze, it was something else. Something that made his chest seize up. 

Rose must have noticed, because the feel of her hand sliding over his palm roused him from his thoughts. “We should go home.” She whispered, squeezing his hand tightly.

He blinked twice before he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah. I’m knackered.” He raked his free hand over his face and sighed heavily. “Good night.” He offered quietly to Ria as he passed by her. 

Maybe Rose was right. Maybe Ria was there because of  _ him _ . 

* * *

Mid-morning, Rose finally emerged from her bedroom with her hair standing at odd angles from how she’d slept the night before. She’d slept straight through her first two alarms and she didn’t feel an ounce of regret about it. 

She smiled to herself as she walked into her living quarters and heard the sound of snoring coming from her sofa. 

After she had announced that she was going to bed, Cyro had  _ promised _ that he’d head home. But instead he was sound asleep in the same position on her sofa that she’d left him. Draped across it like he belonged there. 

And he did.

If they weren’t at the shop together or putting up with whatever nonsense Finn and Poe dragged them into, they were usually at her apartment (or  _ sometimes _ his). He’d easily become such a natural part of her day-to-day life. 

Rose tried to keep quiet as she moseyed into her kitchenette to start to a pot of caff. She still had wiring to do — which required a certain level of being  _ awake _ . 

The smell of fresh brewed caff roused Cyro and great groggily wandered into the kitchenette, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“I tried to stay quiet.”

“It’s alright.” He stifled a yawn and leaned against the counter. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep last night.”

“You were tired.” Rose started with a smile as she poured them both a cup of caff. “You good? You seemed a bit out of it last night.”

Cyro made a face. “Guess we’ll find out today.” He took the caff from her with a soft ‘thank you’ before he took a sip. “Something about Ria,” He clenched his jaw tightly. “I don’t know how to explain it without sounding crazy.” 

Rose frowned, reaching out to curl her fingers around his forearm. “I’m not going to think you sound crazy.” 

“The way she looked at me last night reminded me of my time on the capital ship.” Cyro admitted with an exhausted sigh. “It was a ghost of a memory, but it was enough to give credence to your idea that maybe she  _ is _ here for me.” 

“Then I’ll go with her to meet with Poe,” Rose insisted, sitting her mug down on the counter. “You’re good to work on rewiring, right?”

He shook his head, “I’m not about to hide because of this, Rose.” Cyro raked his fingers through his hair in a vain attempt to flatten out his sleep-disheveled head. “It might also be  _ nothing _ . It’s not exactly the first time I’ve seen a phantom in someone’s face.” 

Rose knew that. She had actually gotten quite good at reading him when the memories took hold of him. It was how she’d known to get him out of there last night. Finn had similar issues, they all did, but he hadn’t seen quite as much action as Cyro had. Finn hadn’t had to torture and interrogate prisoners. 

“I really don’t mind going with her,” Rose assured him. She might  _ accidentally _ kill her in the process  —  _ oh well _ . 

Cyro shook his head. “I’ve got to do this, Rosie. If it does have something to do with my past, I want to face it head-on.” He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip and sighed. “It could be nothing. She seems harmless enough.”

“Except when she’s flirting with you.” Rose countered with narrowed eyes. 

“So jealous.” Cyro teased, shaking his head as he reached for his caff. He arched a brow at her over the rim of the mug as he took a drink. She didn’t dignify his comment with a reply. 

Rose rolled her eyes and grabbed her own mug off the counter, taking a sip as she walked around the island to the refrigerator. “Do you want toast?”

He rubbed at the back of his neck, working his thumb into a knot at the base of it. “I could do toast.”

“If I had known you were going to fall asleep last night, I would’ve given you a pillow you know.” 

“I meant to leave.”

She gave him a skeptical look. “I should’ve known you’d still be there this morning.” 

“As it is, I probably slept better on your sofa than I would’ve at home.” Cyro pulled the bar stool out and sat down at the end of the island. Rose glanced back at him, watching the way he curled his hands around the mug, staring down at the caff in it. 

“Did you have any nightmares?” 

He shook his head, glancing up at her. “Didn’t sleep long enough for that.” Cyro scrapped his fingers over his scruffy jaw, propping his chin up on his palm. “Did you sleep?”

“Like a rock.” Rose scrunched up her nose. “I didn’t even hear my alarms this morning.” She admitted, reaching back in the refrigerator to grab a jar of jam. She moved around the island, sitting down on the stool beside him. 

Cyro reached over and draped his hand over hers, rubbing his thumb against the side of her hand. “You know you don’t have anything to worry about, right?” He questioned softly.

“I know.” She turned her hand over beneath his, interlacing their fingers. “I only worry because I care.” Rose admitted, rotating on the stool to face him. 

He gave her hand a squeeze as he lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. Cyro’s lips drew upwards at the corners and Rose couldn’t help the way her gaze lowered to them. They had been  _ so _ close to kissing  — again — last night. If Ria hadn’t interrupted, they would’ve. 

As if on cue, the toast chose that precise moment to pop up, the toaster  _ dinging _ to announce that they were done. 

“I think we’re cursed.” Cyro remarked as he dragged his hand over his face with a dramatic sigh. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved around the island to grab their toast. 

“That thought had crossed my mind.” Rose laughed and shook her head. It did seem like every time they  _ tried _ to kiss, something inevitably interrupted them. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was the Force or  _ whatever _ higher being had control was doing it on purpose. Was it a sign?

As Rose sat their plates of toast down on the counter, she rose up on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’m fine with taking it slow.” She whispered. “It’ll happen when it happens.” 

Cyro smirked at her and nodded his head. “Yeah.” He reached for the jar of jam, spreading some across his toast. “Did you make Poe aware of our concerns?”

“No.” She shrugged and plopped down onto the stool beside him. “I considered it, but I thought… Poe’s, well  _ Poe _ . It’s better to let him form his own opinions about people.” 

“You’re not wrong.” Cyro chuckled, biting into his toast. He continued as he chewed, “What she’s offering  _ is _ useful. Both for weaponry and our ground vehicles.” He washed the toast back with a drink of caff. “I hate to look a gift fathier in the mouth.” 

“I would like to find out that she’s being sincere.” Rose sighed, swirling her caff in her mug. “Hopefully you’ll be able to figure that out today.” 

He lifted his mug with an arched brow, “Here’s to hoping.” 

* * *

General Poe Dameron was  _ everything _ Scoria had expected him to be. She had heard her fair share of rumors about him from within the First Order. His arrogance, flyboy attitude, charm — it all preceded him. She knew about his flight skills firsthand, though  _ that _ was a topic carefully avoided. Instead she played up the stories she had heard about him, sticking to only tales that would’ve been shared at trading ports and tossed around in cantinas. 

“ _ Really _ ?” Poe pursed his lips together with an amused hum as he leaned back in his chair, kicking his legs up on the edge of his desk. “I’m impressed that it was talked about.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, “ _ Thrilled _ , though. It was pretty fantastic.” 

Scoria grinned broadly at him. “I mean, I wouldn’t expect anything less than  _ fantastic _ from the galaxy’s best pilot.”

Cyro snorted. “ _ Sweet Maker. _ ” He swore under his breath and shook his head as Scoria turned to give him an expectant look. “At this rate, we won’t be able to fit in here if his ego expands any further.” 

“You can’t bring me to meet the  _ great _ Poe Dameron and not expect me to be a little star struck.” Scoria countered with a good natured laugh. She was actually, _ somewhat _ , pleased with meeting the General. She’d only ever engaged in a firefight with him once and he had been impressive. 

Poe clapped his hands together and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “He’s right. We can’t just sit around and talk about my glory days.” He looked towards her then, “So Ria, Rose told me you had an offer for the Resistance.”

Scoria nodded her head. “I deal in plasma. Once Rose and Cyro finish patching up my ship, I’m headed back to Naboo to pick up a shipment to trade to them in return for the repairs.” She cocked her head to the side, “I thought you might be interested in a shipment for the Resistance.”

“At what price?” The cocky flyboy shifted seamlessly into a negotiating general. 

“No cost.” She shrugged. “I did too little for too long and… I’m looking to help the Resistance.” Scoria twisted a piece of hair between her fingers. 

“ _ Wow _ .” Poe breathed out, pursing his lips as he looked at her. “That’s quite the offer. I know trade has been a bit contentious across the routes, but that’s…. a  _ considerable _ donation.”

“It’s for a good cause, isn’t it?” She glanced over her shoulder at Cyro. He was glaring at her with the same uncertainty he had worn last night. Somehow she’d managed to get under his skin and she had no idea  _ how _ she’d managed that. “I’d like to think that I’m making my grandmother proud.” 

Unfortunately, that was actually the truth. Yané would be thrilled to know that she was supporting the Resistance. Scoria mentally shook that thought out of her mind — it was  _ no _ time to get distracted by that line of thinking. She had a mission. Get information out of the Resistance. 

“You certainly are making her proud,” Poe said with a charming grin. “And the Resistance. This is an incredibly generous offer, Ria.” He clasped his hands together. “I feel like we ought to do something to repay you.” 

She shook her head. “Please, no. I don’t need anything. I just want to know that it’s going to be put to good use.” 

“It certainly will be.” Poe’s brows drew together as he sank back in his seat. “We’ve run into issues towards the Unknown Regions.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, ruffling it. “This will go towards arming our people. It definitely won’t go to waste.” 

“I didn’t realize the Resistance had troops.” 

Poe shrugged. “What good army  _ doesn’t _ have troops?” He drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, glancing towards Cyro with an arched brow. The look caused Scoria to glance back at Cyro, who quickly averted his gaze. 

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Poe cleared his throat. “We acquired a rather large group of skilled soldiers. It’s been beneficial, but supplies are always running low. Are you sure we can’t repay you somehow?”

Scoria sat up a little straighter. “Trade is not a stable field to be in currently. If you really  _ must _ repay me in some way, perhaps there’s a place for me in the Resistance?”

Cyro’s boot hit the ground as he uncrossed his legs. From her peripheral gaze she could see the way he leaned forward. He clearly hadn’t been expecting  _ that _ turn of events. 

Poe clicked his tongue against his teeth. “There’s a place for you.” He gestured vaguely towards Cyro, “Among our ranks there Stormtroopers, Imperials, former bounty hunters. The Resistance is for everyone.” It would’ve been inspiring to anyone other than her. 

Scoria leaned across the desk and held out her hand, “Sounds like we have a deal then, General.” 

Poe shook her hand with a grin. “That we do.” He looked towards Cyro then, winking at him. “You and Rose get credit for bringing this one in.” 

“Welcome to the Resistance, Ria.” Cyro offered with a tightlipped smile. 

“I wouldn’t be here without you.” She said smoothly, amused by just how uncomfortable he looked about everything. “And Rose of course.” 

Now she had something to give Vihaan that would keep him off her back. The Resistance was working in the Unknown Regions — likely trying to maintain a stronghold against the remaining First Order loyalists. It wasn’t much, but it was the start. 

She was one step closer to fulfilling her family’s legacy on the back of the Resistance. 


	6. Chapter 6

“I wish you were here.” Rose lamented with a sigh as she propped her chin up on her palm and stared at the small blue hologram that was projected atop her desk. She had finished working on  _ The Inheritance _ and while there was plenty of work to do around the shop, she had decided to make time to talk with Rey. 

“Hopefully,” Rey started with a warm smile. “I’ll be visiting soon.”

“Really?” She perked up at that. 

Rey nodded. “We’re running low on some supplies and I don’t really think Finn is coming back any time soon.” 

She frowned. “ _ What _ ? Why not?” 

Rey shrugged a shoulder, “It was just the way he sounded when we spoke last night. I guess Poe’s under a lot of stress right now and Finn wants to stick around and help. He didn’t  _ say _ it, but it was pretty obvious.” 

Rose startled slightly when she heard footsteps behind her, she smiled when she saw Cyro standing in the threshold. “Hey.” 

“Hey Cyro!” Rey called out with a wave.

“How are you doing, Rey?” Cyro questioned as he approached the desk, placing his hand on Rose’s shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Rose curled her fingers around his hand in return, rubbing her thumb over his skin lightly.

“Keeping busy.” Rey answered. “Ben’s got the students out on the bluff practicing meditation.” She laughed breezily. “Not my strong suit.” 

Cyro pursed his lips and nodded. “I don’t think I’d be very good at meditation. I do better when I keep my head busy.” He glanced down at Rose. “Were you discussing Poe? I have a few choice words to share about him.” 

“Did the meeting go poorly?” Rey questioned. 

“I told her.” Rose explained. 

Cyro gave her shoulder a tighter squeeze then. “He’s awfully trusting of people.” He rocked his jaw back and forth with a disgruntled expression. “He blindly offered her a place in the Resistance.” 

“Has she actually done anything to warrant suspicion?” 

Rose chewed on her bottom lip, reluctantly shaking her head. “It’s just a feeling.”

Cyro took his hand off her shoulder, both of them going to his hips as he stared down at his feet. “I think I know her. I don’t know from where. But she’s not a complete stranger.” He swallowed thickly and his eyes darted towards Rose’s face briefly before he fixed his gaze on the hologram. “She could have completely altruistic intentions, maybe we’re wrong. But… I don’t trust her.” 

Rose frowned as she looked up at him. “What do  _ you _ want to do?” She questioned as she curled her fingers around his forearm, prying his hand away from his hip so she could take it into hers. She caught the little knowing grin on Rey’s face as she looked back at the hologram.

“I  _ really _ wish I was there to help.” Rey offered. “Do you know anything about her? Maybe you could trackdown family or associates?”

Cyro dragged his fingers through his hair with his freehand. “We could follow her back to Naboo.”

“She has a grandmother.” 

“She mentioned her during the meeting.” 

“Did she mention a name?” Rose questioned and he shook his head. “That’s fine. Maybe… We could follow her back when she goes to pick up the shipment.” 

Cyro clenched his teeth together, “Yeah.” 

“Whatever it is,” Rey started as she looked between the pair of them. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Just be careful?”

“We will.” Rose promised. “If we can take down a First Order ship, I think we can handle Ria.” 

“I should get ready for the next lesson. But I’m here if you need anything. One call away.”

“Bye!” Rose smiled brightly at her, before disconnecting the hologram. She reluctantly released Cyro’s hand as she turned around to look up at him. “Are you okay?” 

He dragged both hands over his face and shrugged. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “If she is someone that  _ is _ connected with my past — I don’t want you getting involved.” Cyro turned his back on her, his shoulders rigid as he avoided her gaze. 

“We’re in this together, Cyro.” She rose to her feet, arms folded across her chest defensively. “I don’t hold the past against you or Finn or  _ anyone _ who was involved with the First Order.” Rose reminded him, stepping towards him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek flat against his back, “If this has anything to do with something you were  _ forced _ to do, we’ll face it. But you’re not doing it alone.”

Cyro rested his hands over hers, exhaling heavily. “If she suspected I was a former trooper, she has confirmation now. Poe alluded to my past during the meeting. I know he meant well, but I don’t  _ kriffing _ appreciate it being brought up.” 

Rose pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “I’ll talk to him, okay?” 

“Don’t.” He turned around in her hold, his lips drawn into a thin line as he looked down at her. “Let’s just do this together. Alright? We’ll go to Naboo, follow her… we’ll do it together.” 

A shaky breath escaped Rose as she looked up at him. “Together.” She lifted her hand and brushed her fingertips along his jawline, playing through the short beard that grew there. “Cyro,” She whispered, not quite trusting her own voice. “Kiss me.” 

Relief transformed his troubled expression, his dark gaze softening as it flickered towards her lips. He closed the distance between them slowly — like he expected that they’d be interrupted  _ again _ . But they weren’t. 

Rose curled her fingers around the back of his neck, playing with the soft curls at the nape of his neck. His mustache tickled her upper lip and she laughed softly against his lips. She rose up her toes, tilting her head as she deepened the kiss. She dragged her fingers through his hair —  _ finally _ free to do that, like she’d always wanted to. Cyro had such good hair. It had been one of the first things she’d noticed when he took his helmet off that first time. Soft brown eyes and a gorgeous head of hair. 

Cyro cupped her cheek as he drew back from the kiss, rubbing his thumb over the rise of her cheekbone. “Worth the wait?” He questioned, bumping his nose against hers. 

Rose felt a blush creep across her skin. “I don’t know.” She mused quietly, winding her fingers through his hair still. “Might need one more kiss to make up my mind.” 

“Me too.” He drawled out as he dipped back down and kissed her again. Cyro wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her in close to him. Kissing him had been worth the wait. It was everything she had hoped for in a kiss — a kiss that meant more than just a fear-fueled kiss in the midst of battle. She couldn’t imagine a world where their paths hadn’t crossed. It would’ve been a good existence, but not the  _ best _ . 

Whatever it was — if Ria truly was after him — they’d face it together. Just like they had everything else that had crossed their paths since they first met. 

Rose pulled back with a broad grin, her fingers curled lightly around the curve of his throat. “We should… definitely get back to work.” She whispered, even as she leaned up to steal another kiss from his lips. She was fairly certain that kissing him could easily become an addictive thing. 

“It’s going to be hard to focus on repairs,” He mumbled as he traced his fingertips along the line of her jaw. “We should go out tonight.” 

She toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, indulging in all the little things she’d always wanted to do. Of course, she knew what his hair felt like. She’d ruffled it a dozen times over the course of their friendship. But now she knew what it felt like to play with it after kissing him. “We should.” 

“Vapor Room?” 

She laughed, “Where else?”

* * *

“Back so soon?” Nima mused as she sat a glass of Chandrilan Blue on the bar in front of Scoria. “Didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”

Scoria smirked at the Twi’lek as she picked up the glass, lifting in a mock-toast before taking a sip. “Unfortunately, I have to meet with my  _ associate _ .” She glanced around the bar expectantly, but the braintick was nowhere to be found yet. 

“He seems like quite the character.” Nima’s own gaze flickered around the cantina. “What do you trade in?”

Scoria stared down at her drink, swirling the liquid in the glass before taking a sip. “Plasma.” 

Nima arched a brow at her as she met her eyes. “Quite the delayed answer there.” 

“Yeah.” Scoria chuckled, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek as she looked around for Vihaan again. “Maybe I’ll tell you more tomorrow.” 

“Is this a ‘ _ you show me yours and I’ll show you mine _ ,’ situation?” Nima remarked with a smirk, wiping down the bar as an excuse to linger in front of her. 

Scoria dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “Let’s see how tomorrow goes, yeah?” 

Nima’s lips parted to answer, but the playful expression on her face quickly vanished as she looked past Scoria. “Heads up.” She warned before she busied herself at the other end of the bar.

“ _ Scoria _ ,” Vihaan drawled out, his hand curling around her shoulder menacingly before he settled down at the bar beside her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. Miss me?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. We’ll go with that.” Scoria knocked back most of her drink, setting it down on the bar. “I got information for you. Not much, but I figured you’d appreciate knowing I’m doing actual work.”

“I didn’t doubt you.” Vihaan leered, gesturing at Nima. “Merenzane. And one for her too.” 

“I’m fine—”

“One for her too.” He repeated with a sharp tone and Nima didn’t dare to linger near them.

“We’re  _ celebrating _ , Scoria. You’ve brought me information.” Vihaan gave her an expectant look. “I’m expecting it to be good.” 

Scoria swallowed thickly and stared the man down. “I’m with the Resistance now. They welcomed me with open arms.” A faint smile played over her lips. 

“It’s remarkable how stupid they are.” Vihaan remarked with a roll of his eyes, his fingers stroking at the tentacles that hung from his chin. “Tell me you have more than that.”

“They intend to make moves into the Unknown Regions.” Scoria revealed, shifting uncomfortably when Vihaan invaded her space. 

“I had  _ hoped _ for more exciting news.” He remarked as Nima returned to them with the drinks he had ordered. “But it’s exciting nonetheless.”

Vihaan scooped up the glasses, passing one to Scoria. “Drink!”

She took the shot from him, her eyes darting sideways towards Nima. The Twi’lek was concerned and rightly so. Scoria didn’t trust the Quarren’s intentions either. But she wasn’t about to let him get under her skin. He’d take too much pleasure in that. 

Scoria knocked the drink back, the glass clinking against the bar top as she sat it back down. “I’m headed back to Naboo tomorrow.” She revealed to Vihaan. “I’ll be back in a few days. Hopefully then I’ll have even more intell to provide you with.” 

He reached out and rested his hand on her shoulder squeezing tight enough to make her wince. “Don’t disappoint me. You’ve got all your hopes and dreams resting on this, Scoria. It would be a shame if you failed.” 

“I’m not in the business of disappointing anyone I have a deal with, Vihaan.” She swatted his hand away, undeterred by his leering gaze. She’d faced worse men than him. The First Order was a man’s world — and she had thrived in it. If there was one thing her YaYa had taught her, it was to accept  _ no bullshit _ from anyone. 

The Quarren stroked the tentacles at his jaw thoughtfully for a quiet moment, before he turned back to the bar and gestured towards Nima. “Another round.” He threw down a few credits, watching as they skittered across the bartop, before his eyes slid back towards Scoria with a smirk. “I wouldn’t have expected that.” 

“Expected  _ what _ ?” Scoria questioned with an arched brow. 

“The wormhead.” He jerked his head in Nima’s direction as she poured their drinks further down the bar. 

Scoria glared back at Vihaan. “That’s rich coming for a  _ squidface _ .” She sneered. “I didn’t realize my agreement with you prevented me from making friends.”

“ _ Friends _ .” Vihaan chuckled, rising up from his seat. “Have both on me.” He remarked before he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Get me information about the Resistance and don’t waste your time on trash.” 

Scoria felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, her fingers curling into tightly clenched fists. It wouldn’t do her any good if she lashed out. She needed Vihaan if she intended to follow through with her plans. But the temptation was real. 

She turned around to face him, gritting her teeth. “You’ll get what you asked for Vihaan. Stay out of my personal affairs.” 

Her eyes followed after him as he retreated from the cantina and it wasn’t until the door swung shut in his wake that you turned back to face the bar. Nima sat the two shots down in front of you with a curious expression. 

“That seemed tense.” 

“Yeah.” Scoria rubbed at the back of her neck as she propped her elbow up on the top of the bar. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s nothing I haven’t had to deal with before.” 

“Your hand is shaking.” Nima remarked, her gaze falling to your hand where it was resting on the bar. “You sure you’re alright?”

Scoria gave a strained laugh. She hadn’t even realized she was shaking, adrenaline coursing through her out of anger. “Trust me. Whatever  _ that _ was, it’s pretty low on my list of worst situations.”

Nima fixed her teal gaze on her. “Sounds like you’ve had quite the life.”

“You could say that.” She smiled a little, curling her fingers around the shot sitting in front of her to mask the way her fingers were trembling. “It would be a shame to waste his.” 

A lazy grin spread over the Twi’lek’s lips and she picked up the spare shot. “Bottom’s up?” 

Their glasses clinked together before they knocked back the shots, both of them laughing as they discarded them. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.” Scoria confessed, tucking a lock of loose hair behind her ear. “I’m a fan of…  _ art _ .” 

Nima rolled her eyes with a short laugh. “Well the Figg has phenomenal artwork. I’m sure it’s nothing like what you have on Naboo.” 

“You heard?” Scoria stiffened. 

“Hard not to.” She shrugged her shoulders, her eyes wandering down the length of the bar, keeping an eye on her clients. 

“About what he said,” Scoria leaned forward, offering a sympathetic smile. 

“I’ve been called worse than a wormhead.” Nima turned to stow the emptied glasses in the sink behind the bar.

“How much else did you hear?” She questioned. 

“Enough to know you’re not just into trade.” 

Scoria nodded her head. At least she thought she was a trader. Her cover wasn’t entirely blown. “These days? No one’s into just one line of business.” She sniffed and looked away, her jaw clenched hard. “We’re all just trying to get by.” 

Nima reached across the bar and squeezed her hand. “I know how to keep my mouth shut, Scoria.” Her brows were furrowed together and the look on her face made Scoria want to know  _ more _ . Tomorrow. She’d learn more about her tomorrow. 

“I should go.” Scoria said abruptly, pulling her hand out from under Nima’s. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She slid off the seat, shoving her hands into pockets. “Alright?”

“Of course.” Nima offered. “Have a good night, Scoria.” 

“You too.” With one last lingering look, Scoria turned away from the bar and headed for the door. Despite the urge to look back at the Twi’lek she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

* * *

Cyro leaned against the bartop, waiting for Nima to finish refilling drinks at the other end of the bar. He couldn’t help looking back at Rose where she sat in their usual little booth. She looked radiant — she  _ always _ looked radiant. But tonight she looked a little more starry-eyed than usual, her lips drawn up with an unfading grin. He was impressed that they’d actually finished repairs on one of the X-Wings before they left the shop. Kissing Rose was definitely going to become a welcomed distraction in his life. 

“The usual?” Nima questioned and he shook himself out of his thoughts as he looked at her. 

“Yeah. Two fizzes.” He scratched at the back of his ear. “Please tell me that was the first time you asked me.”

Nima winked at him, “I won’t tell you I asked twice.” She looked past him at Rose, offering her a wave. “How are  _ things _ ?” 

“Well,” Cyro started, drumming his fingers against the bar. “I guess we’re  _ officially _ giving this a try.” Not that they hadn’t already been something for months now. 

“I’m glad.” Nima grinned. “If there’s two people in this world that were meant for each other, it’s you and Rose.” 

“Talk about pressure,” Cyro teased with a good natured laugh. “Being with her just makes sense, you know?” He mused, rubbing his lips together thoughtfully. “First time I saw her I just… I think I knew.”

Nima nodded understandingly. “I get that.” 

“I was willing to risk it all for her.” He scraped his fingernails over the scruff on his cheek, before looking back at Nima. “Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize,” She waved her hand. “I live vicariously through all of my customers.” 

He leaned against the bar, “Just you wait, someone will come in here and sweep you off your feet.” 

Nima laughed briskly. “Good luck to them. Doubt the boss will let  _ that _ happen.” She turned her back to him and started working on the fizzes, glancing back over her shoulder at him. “I actually did just recently meet someone  _ interesting _ here.” 

“Who’s the lucky fellow?”

“ _ Her _ name is Scoria —  _ Ria _ .” She sat one of the fizzes down in front of him, a smirk playing over her lips. “I doubt it’ll amount to much.” Nima explained and Cyro wasn’t about to interrupt her. It made sense, they had recommended the cantina to her. “She’s new around here.” 

“Really?” Cyro arched a brow. “Is she like you. From Ryloth?” 

She shook her head, fixing him with a rather amused look. “She’s human.” 

Cyro took a sip of the fizz sitting in front of him, giving a quick glance back at Rose. She smiled back at him and he felt his heart flutter in response. Stars, was it nice to be free to  _ feel _ like this. “Well,” He said as he looked back at Nima then. “I hope whatever it is goes well for you.” 

“Me too.” She folded her arms across her chest and shrugged. “We’ll see. I feel like she might be sticking around, but… you never can be too sure in a place like this.” 

“Good luck.” Cyro offered, picking up the other fizz. He headed back over to Rose, sliding into the booth beside her. 

“What was all _ that  _ about?” She questioned, plucking her drink out of his hand and taking a sip of it. 

“It would appear that our suspicious new friend has attracted herself a paramour.” 

Rose’s eyes widened. “ _ Who _ ?”

“Nima.” Cyro arched a brow. “I wanted to fish for more information, but she seemed cagey about the situation.” 

“Huh.”

“Indeed.” He casually draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her arm a squeeze. 

Rose leaned into his side, sighing. “Maybe I can get information out of Nima.”

He shook his head, “Let her have this.” 

Rose’s lips parted like she had something to say to that, but she took another sip of her fizz instead. Nima had been the first friend they’d made outside of the Resistance. They’d gotten into so many late-night conversations with her at the cantina — and she’d certainly put up with enough between them and Finn and Poe over the course of a year. Her situation wasn’t ideal and he related to that, more than he could easily verbalize. Being out of control of your own fate, was a situation he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's where we may part ways. This was all the fic I had written earlier this year. I may revisit it if there's any interest. I had completely forgotten I was working on this because the year has been... well.

Scoria’s brows furrowed together as she tilted her head, trying to make sense of the piece of art she was staring at. But even that didn’t prove helpful. “What is… it?” She finally questioned, turning to look at the woman beside her. 

Nima chuckled as she crossed her arms across her chest, nodding her head in the direction of the large painted scene. “I  _ believe _ it’s an impressionistic interpretation of the Grindalid mating rituals. These glistening streaks are meant to be the trails of their—”

“I’m going to stop you right  _ there _ !” She laughed as she quickly looped her arm through Nima’s and led her away from that painting, 

“The best part is that the muted tones are meant to simulate the fact that they are photosensitive.” Nima continued, her voice straining as she tried not to be overtaken by her own laughter. “What? Not into the mating habits of Grindalids?” 

Scoria scrunched up her nose, “Not even a little bit. Is there any art that  _ doesn’t _ involve mating rituals?” She gave the Twi’lek an expectant look, her brows rising upwards. 

She slid her arm back through Scoria’s, taking a hold of her hand, “This way.” Nima said as she guided her through another room, this one filled with brilliantly painted miniature portraits, the colors almost overwhelming as they lined the walls from floor to ceiling. “My favorite room is the hall of statues.” 

“But you take me to the Grindalid mating painting  _ first _ .” Scoria laughed and shook her head, keeping in stride beside her as they wandered from one gallery through to the next.

“That’s not even the  _ worst  _ collection here.” Nima informed her, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “The gallery has an extensive collection of carbonite.”

“With people  _ in _ them?” 

Nima nodded solemnly, “They claim it’s for the greater good. Some of them were bounties, but most of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Her gaze lowered to the ground as they continued through the gallery. “It’s one of the few collections that the Associates are more than willing to sell.” 

“ _ Wait _ ,” Scoria came to an abrupt halt. “You mean to tell me that they  _ sell _ off the people trapped in carbonite? How is that  _ legal _ ?” She stared at Nima with a look of sheer horror. 

“There’s a lot of unpleasant things that get overlooked.” Nima said grimly, releasing her hold on Scoria’s hand. 

“What happens to them?” Her heart sank at the thought of something so foul taking place in such a beautiful place like the art gallery. It was such a beautifully designed building, with grand rooms filled with treasures from around the galaxy. But how much of those treasures had been stolen to make a profit on? Beauty always seemed to have a price.

Nima looked away, her shoulders sinking as she looked around the room that they had hesitated in. The display cases around them were filled with intricate carvings made from various metals and minerals. Scoria wanted to look at them, but her eyes were fixed on the Twi’lek. 

“ _ Nima _ ?” 

Her lips twitched as she turned back towards Scoria, her arms crossed across her chest defensively. “In my case, I have a life debt to my owner.” 

“Oh.”  _ Oh _ . Scoria kicked herself for only being able to say  _ ‘oh’ _ to a confession like that. “I’m so sorry, Nima.” 

“I don’t need sympathy, Ria.” She countered with a wave of her hand. “It’s been years now. What’s done is done.” 

She shook her head, “But it isn’t  _ right _ . No one should be able to just…  _ buy _ someone.” The thought made her stomach turn with bile. “What is the Resistance doing to stop this? They have to know. How could they not know that this is happening right under their noses?” 

“No one needs to do  _ anything _ ,” Nima shook her head slowly. “At least I’m free — free enough.” She hesitantly reached out to rest her hand on Scoria’s shoulder. “I don’t need saving.”

“But you can’t leave.” 

Nima shrugged. “I live vicariously through stories.” 

Scoria curled her hand around Nima’s at her shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “Is that why you come here? To see what’s out there beyond Cloud City?” 

“It’s nice to imagine that I’m visiting each of these planets,” She gestured around them. “Realistically, I know each of these artifacts is no different than I am. Uprooted from their homes, put on display for someone with more credits than morals.” Nima stepped past her, moving towards a large display case with a grand altarpiece within it. “This was carved from the tusk of a mudhorn from Arvala-7. It belonged in a sanctuary, yet here it sits for  _ anyone _ to gawk at. Something sacred, stolen, and put on display.” 

Scoria’s heart ached as she found herself looking at Nima and not the altarpiece. “It’s beautiful.” 

A faint smirk played over Nima’s lips and she glanced at Scoria briefly. “I expect a full and detailed report from your trip to Naboo.” 

“Of course.” Scoria looked back at the altarpiece then. “I wish things could be different.” 

“There’s not a single person in the galaxy that wouldn’t wish for their life to be different.” 

Nima’s hand easily fit into Scoria’s as they stood, side-by-side, studying the sacred relic. The longer she stared at it, the more aware she became of the fact that something as precious and ancient as it didn’t belong within the austere white rooms of an art gallery on Cloud City. Not when it had been pilfered and stolen from it’s home. 

“Do you still want to show me the statues?” Scoria questioned as she turned to look at Nima beside her, a faint smile playing over her lips. “I have a little time before I have to leave.” 

“Well, you can’t leave without seeing it.” Nima tugged at Scoria’s hand, guiding her out of the altar gallery and down the corridor that led towards the hall of statues. Several other patrons were milling around the room — ‘ooh”-ing and “aww”-ing at the grand pieces that towered above them. 

Scoria couldn’t help but consider how many of those people  _ knew _ about the insidious side to the gallery. That acquisitions were paid for with the money they made off of selling freedom. If the First Order had been allowed to win — this wouldn’t have happened. It was the Resistance that seemed oblivious to the worst among them. 

But doubt lingered in her chest. 

Yané used to tell her stories about the injustices of the galaxy. Of the small ways that a Nabooian Senator  _ tried _ to make things right — an uphill battle against forces stronger than her and her allies. 

Scoria had thought she understood. 

Her mother had tried to teach her, to impart to her the knowledge of the Empire. Her parents had been forced into hiding because they had attempted to usher in change. 

The First Order had tried the same — the dawning of order and change. Perhaps they hadn’t been the arbiters of justice…

“I should go.” Scoria said suddenly, back going rigid as she looked towards Nima. “The sooner I leave, the sooner I’ll return.” She offered, soothing her abrupt words.

Nima frowned. “Is it the statue?”

Scoria blinked and shook her head slightly, glancing up at the statue of Padmé Amidala, a piece that had been commissioned after her death. 

“No. She’s beloved on Naboo.” Scoria exhaled shakily as she stared up at the woman’s face. “My grandmother worked with her.” She confessed, brows furrowed as she thought of the duel legacy she carried. “I just want to get the shipment over with.”

* * *

“Rosie, wake up.” Cyro gently shook Rose’s leg. “We’re here.” He reached out and tenderly trailed his fingers over her cheeks, the slight tickle of the sensation was what pulled her awake. She stifled a yawn, eyes meeting his. “We’ve arrived.”

“Oh!” Rose rubbed at her eyes before she sat up straighter in, staring out the window at the lush green world, which was merely the backdrop to grand displays of architectural brilliance. She had never seen a planet like Naboo. The roofline consisted of oxidized copper domes, set atop curved buildings forming a crescent causeway. 

“Senator Pretha should be waiting for us,” Cyro told her gently, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched her awe inspired expression.

Rose felt a brush rise to her cheeks and she quickly unbuckled her seatbelt and scrambled out of her seat. “I forgot how lulling hyperspace can be.” She remarked as she snatched up her satchel and pulled it across her shoulders. “Do I look like I’ve been sleeping?”

Cyro chuckled, gesturing on his own face where she bore marks from pressing her face against the seat. “It’ll fade.” He crowded close to her. “You look fine.”

She smiled up at him, lifting up on her toes when he dipped down to steal a quick kiss. Rose’s heart fluttered as he pulled away, watching as he grabbed his own satchel. She shook herself out of her reverie, “I still think we should have followed Ria to wherever she was headed.” 

“We don’t want to spook her.” Cyro reminded her, his arms folded across his chest. “At least Poe was willing to let us check the channels on the plasma. The Resistance can’t risk a scandal.” 

“No, it certainly can’t.” Rose shook her head, hitting the release button for the exit ramp. Cyro followed behind her as they strolled down into the plaza. Senator Pretha was waiting for them, flanked by the Naboo Royal Security Forces. She was rather surprised by the Senator’s appearance — Poe had seemed rather intimidated by her, after one of her ventures to Cloud City. She was a slight woman, shorter than Rose, but rather close to her in age. But her most defining feature was the prematurely silver hair that framed her olive cheeks. Despite the guards that towered over her, she seemed to be ever the domineering force. 

“Welcome to Naboo,” The Senator said with a short nod of her head. “I hope you had an uneventful trip.” 

“It was a smooth ride,” Cyro remarked, offering a kind smile. 

“Thank you for meeting with us on such short notice.”

“If the Resistance calls, we answer.”

Rose stiffened a little at that statement. Where had that enthusiasm been when they were overtaken on Crait? No one came then. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the present situation. “How much did Poe explain to you?”

“As I understand it, you’ve been offered a rather sizeable donation of plasma.” She folded her arms across her chest, giving her guards a look, before she started towards an alcove that led inside the main chambers. “And you want to ensure the legitimacy of the export.”

“That about sums it up.” Rose offered with a short laugh. “I know it’s frowned upon to look a gift fathier in the mouth, but I’m leery of this particular offer.” 

The guards peeled off as the three of them walked through the ornate corridors, stepping into alcoves and vanishing until there were only two guards walking behind Rose and Cyro. “The General seemed worried that your caution would offend us. Unless the gift is given by the royal house, it’s really none of our concern. But I understand the hesitation,” Senator Pretha led them further through an antechamber and into a grand library. 

The stacks extended well beyond the line of sight and the towered high above them, nearly reaching the lofted roof above. “You keep physical records?” Rose questioned, lips parted in awe as she took in her surroundings. She had never actually seen a physical book before. Not physically. 

“We keep digital archives as well. While Naboo was spared from the threat of the First Order, past conflicts have led us to prepare for a siege.” The Senator explained. “And I apologize that Queen Fillorial is unable to meet with you, she sends her regards.” 

“Tell her thank you.” Rose offered with a polite nod of her head, still soaking in the vast chamber of knowledge that surrounded her. “The Resistance appreciates Naboo’s support.”

“And we appreciate the familial connection between Naboo and the Resistance.” 

Cyro’s brows furrowed, “Familial connection?”

“The grandson of Queen Amidala.”

Rose whispered to Cyro, “ _ Ben _ .”

“That explains so much.”

Senator Pretha cleared her throat, “While it is a fraught connection, it has served Naboo well.”

“Is that why it was spared?” Cyro questioned. 

“That is the belief.” She shrugged. “Queen Amidala was a beloved ruler. The fact that her bloodline remains, means a great deal to our people. All things considered.”

“Yes, I would assume his tenure as Supreme Leader  _ soured _ things.” Cyro remarked with a slight edge to his voice. Rose hit him in the arm, before looking towards the Senator. 

“Ben has been working quite diligently with Force users. Making amends.”

The Senator simply nodded, gesturing towards the stacks. “We keep excellent export reports. Do you know the code of the vessel she uses for transport?”

“She called it  _ The Inheritance _ .” Cyro explained, rubbing at his arm where Rose had smacked him. “Modded Star Courier.”

“An interesting choice for trade.” Senator Pretha started down one of the aisles, humming to herself as she pursued through a row of large tomes. 

“I’ve never seen one used for trade, myself.” Cyro stated, shoulders sagging a little. “I’ve been aboard a number of trade vessels and she lacked any of the modifications one would see.”

Rose slipped her hand into Cyro’s, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“Mechanic?”

Cyro nodded his head stiffly, “Now.”

The Senator plucked a volume from the shelf, passing it to Rose. “This is the last quarter’s trade report. A Star Courier would likely carry a half-ton shipment.”

Rose held the base of the book against her stomach as she flipped it open, sweeping through the pages until she reached the section on shipments of the half-ton variety. She ran her finger over the page, scanning over the vessel identifications. 

“She goes by Ria Rix,” Cyro said as he turned his attention towards the Senator. “Are there tax records?”

“Follow me.” The Senator started down the aisle and Cyro followed after her. Rose kept her eyes glued to the page as she trudged along behind them, brows furrowed as she was met with another page without a mention of  _ any _ Star Couriers. 

“Trade embargoes shuttered the trade routes for a period of time. We’ve been lenient on taxing to help recoup the losses.” The Senator explained. “But we have kept a record.”

Cyro took the book from her, flipping back to the R section. “There’s no Rix listed.” He looked towards Rose then. “Any ideas?”

Rose shook her head, closing her own book. “There’s no reference to her in this either.”

The Senator sighed heavily, “We can run a scan on the archives for the name. Perhaps census data might be of some use. Highly confidential, however.” 

The two guards who had been following behind them took the useless books from Rose and Cyro and they both hastily followed after the Senator. 

“We appreciate anything you can give us,” Rose said as she caught up with the Senator. 

“I’m curious enough now myself. If someone is impersonating a trader from Naboo it poses several questions. Especially if her cargo is  _ from _ Naboo. They're circumventing trade laws.”

The Senator swiped her hand over a scanner on the wall, stepping aside as it swung open to reveal another chamber that extended beyond the library. “Ria Rix?”

“Yes.” Cyro crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against a short bookshelf as he and Rose watched the petite woman as she moved towards a data center. She was quiet for awhile.

“I’ve never seen so many books before in my life.” Rose admitted, rocking on her heels. “I’ve never seen anything like Theed.”

“It’s quite a change from Cloud City.” Cyro agreed. “I don’t know if I could live here, though.”

Rose tensed, a knot twisting in her gut. “Are you… looking for somewhere to live?”

He shrugged a shoulder, offering her a small smile. “Not really.” Cyro answered, “But I know that the Resistance won’t always be on Cloud City.” 

“Yeah.” She nodded slowly, chewing on her bottom lip. She had pushed those doubts from her mind following the kiss they had shared, but now they had returned tenfold. Was he really thinking about the future — when the Resistance was finished in Bespin? Or was he currently making plans to part ways. She couldn’t blame him. He deserved to settle down somewhere nice and quiet. Somewhere he wasn’t constantly met with phantoms from his past. 

“There are no records for a Ria Rix  _ however _ ,” Senator Pretha stated as she looked up from the data board. “There is a Rix Baize who had a daughter named Scoria.” Her sharp gaze pierced Rose’s then. “He was an Imperial that sought asylum outside of Theed.” 

“And he was granted it?” Cyro fumed. 

“It was before my time, obviously. I would  _ not _ have granted asylum.” The Senator gritted out. “It would seem that  _ Scoria Baize _ was orphaned by both of her parents. There are records of her being fostered by an extended member of the royal house.”

“Really?” Rose’s brows furrowed together. “Who? Can we speak with them?”

Senator Pretha stood a little taller then, looking between Cyro and Rose. “She was raised by Yané Bosque.”

“And who was she?” Cyro questioned. 

The Senator smirked, “A handmaiden of Queen Amidala.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a visual person myself so please enjoy my fancasts for Cyro and Scoria. 
> 
>   
> 


End file.
